THE 

LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD 
a 


BY 


W.    D.    HOWELL8 

AUTHOR    OF    "A   HAZARD   OF   NEW   FORTUNES  ; 
"  THE  DAY  OF  THEIR  WEDDING  "  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 
BY  W.  T.  SMEDLEY 


NEW  YORK    AND   LONDON 
HARPER   &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

1897 


W.  D.  HOWELLS'S  WORKS. 


IN   CLOTH   BINDING. 


STOPS  OF  VARIOUS  QUILLS. 
Illustrated  by  HOWARD  PYLK. 
$2  50. 

IMPRESSIONS  AND  EXPERI 
ENCES.  $1  50. 

A  PARTING  AND  A  MEETING. 
Illustrated.  $1  00. 

THE  DAY  OF  THEIR  WED 
DING.  Illustrated.  $1  25. 

MY  LITERARY  PASSIONS. 
$1  50. 

A  TRAVELER  FROM  ALTRU- 
RIA.  $1  50. 

THE  COAST  OF  BOHEMIA.  Il 
lustrated.  $1  50. 

THE  WORLD  OF  CHANCE. 
$1  50. 

THE  QUALITY  OF  MERCY. 
$1  50. 

AN  IMPERATIVE  DUTY.  $1  00. 

THE  SHADOW  OF  A  DREAM. 
$100. 


ANNIE  KILBURN.    $1  50. 

APRIL  HOPES.     $1  50. 

CRITICISM  AND  FICTION.  With 
Portrait.  $1  00. 

A  BOY'S  TOWN.     HIM.     |1  25. 

A  HAZARD  OF  NEW  FORT 
UNES.  2  Vols.,  $2  00. 

MODERN  ITALIAN  POETS. 
With  Portraits.  $2  00. 

CHRISTMAS  EVERY  DAY,  and 
Other  Stories.  Illustrated.  $1  25. 

THE  MOUSE-TRAP,  and  Other 
Farces.  Illustrated.  $1  00. 

MY  YEAR  IN  A  LOG -CABIN. 
Illustrated.  50  cents. 

A  LITTLE  SWISS  SOJOURN. 
Illustrated.  50  cents. 

FARCES  :  Five  o'clock  Tea.-The 
Mouse-Trap. — A  Likely  Story. — 
The  Unexpected  Guests.— Even 
ing  Dress. — A  Letter  of  Introduc- 
-tion.— The  Albany  Depot.— The 
Garroters.  HIM.  50  cenU  each. 


NEW    YORK    AND    LONDON  : 
HARPER   &   BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS. 


Copyright,  1896,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


Copyright,  1897,  by  W.  D.  HOWBLLS. 


.  A.  Howells  &   Co.,  Jefferson,  Ohio. 


PS 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


'"I   DON'T   THINK  THAT   LOOKS  VERY   MUCH   LIKE 

IT5" Frontispiece 

"A   LANK  FIGURE   OF  A  MAN   AT   THE   FOOT   OF   A 

POPLAR-TREE" Facing  p.  30 

"HE   SAW   THE   GIRL   IN   THE   MORNING"       ...  "         60 
"  'ACQUAINTED   WITH  MR.   WESTOVER,    THE    ART 
IST?"' "       68 

"  'JEFF  TOLD  ME  EVERY  WORD  ABOUT  IT'".     .  "      88 

"  'WELL,  GOOD-BY,  MR.  WESTOVER'"     ....  "    118 
"THEY  WERE  SORRY  THEY  MUST  BE  GOING  SO 

SOON" "130 

"'NOW,    JEFF,   YOU    HAD    BETTER    GO    HOME    AND 

TELL  YOUR  MOTHER'" "  162 

"  'I'M  SORRY  A  SON  OF  MINE  HAD  TO  BE  TOLD 

HOW  TO  ACT  WITH  HIS  MOTHER'"  ....  "  178 

"'GIVE  ME  MY  LETTERS'" "  198 

"'NO  MORE  JAYS  FOR  ME,  NO  MORE  JAGS  FOR 

YOU'" "234 

"'COME  IN,  YOU  DAMN  JAY'" "  258 

"'I'LL  SMASH  THEM  BOTH  ON  THE  HEARTH'"  .  "  270 

"  'GOT  EVERYTHING  YOU  WANT  ?'" "  294 

"HE  CONTINUED  TO  GO  WITH  HER" "  316 

"'WILL  YOU  LET  ME  PASS?'" "  336 

"  'WHAT  ARE  YOU  GOIN'  TO  DO  ?'  "  .  "  352 


iV  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"SHE  BLUSHED  AND  BRIDLED   AT    HIS  BOW  "      .  Facing  p.  362 

"SUDDENLY  HE   FELT  A  FIERY  STING  ON   HIS 

FOREHEAD" "      380 

"THEY  BURIED  HIM  IN  THE  OLD  FAMILY  LOT"      "      392 
"KNEELING  ON  HIS  BREAST,  WITH  BOTH  HANDS 

ON  HIS  THROAT" "      414 

"  '  IT  MAKES  ME  THINK,  WELL,  OF  A  BIRD  YOU'VE 

COME  ON  SUDDEN'" "  442 

"HE  HURRIED  FORWARD  AND  JOYFULLY  TOOK 

THE  HAND  SHE  GAVE  HIM"  .  "  458 


THE  LANDLOKD  AT  LION'S  HEAD 


THE  LANDLOKD  AT  LION'S  HEAT). 


IF  you  looked  at  the  mountain  from  the  west,  the 
line  of  the  summit  was  wandering  and  uncertain,  like 
that  of  most  mountain-tops ;  but  seen  from  the  east, 
the  mass  of  granite  showing  above  the  dense  forests 
of  the  lower  slopes  had  the  form  of  a  sleeping  lion. 
The  flanks  and  haunches  were  vaguely  distinguished 
from  the  mass;  but  the  mighty  head,  resting  with  its 
tossed  mane  upon  the  vast  paws  stretched  before  it, 
was  boldly  sculptured  against  the  sky.  The  likeness 
could  not  have  been  more  perfect,  when  you  had  it  in 
profile,  if  it  had  been  a  definite  intention  of  art ;  and 
you  could  travel  far  north  and  far  south  before  the 
illusion  vanished.  In  winter  the  head  was  blotted  by 
the  snows ;  and  sometimes  the  vagrant  clouds  caught 
upon  it  and  deformed  it,  or  hid  it,  at  other  seasons ; 
but  commonly,  after  the  last  snow  went  in  the  spring 
until  the  first  snow  came  in  the  fall,  the  Lion's  Head 
was  a  part  of  the  landscape,  as  imperative  and  impor 
tunate  as  the  Great  Stone  Face  itself. 
A 


2  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

Long  after  other  parts  of  the  hill  country  were 
opened  to  summer  sojourn,  the  region  of  Lion's  Head 
oed  ilmost  primitively  solitary  and  savage.  A 
stony  mountain  road  followed  the  bed  of  the  torrent 
t-7  b  brawled  through  the  valley  at  its  base,  and  at  a 
certain  point  a  still  rougher  lane  climbed  from  the 
road  along  the  side  of  the  opposite  height  to  a  lonely 
farm-house  pushed  back  on  a  narrow  shelf  of  land, 
meagre  acreage  of  field  and  pasture  broken  out 
of  the  woods  that  clothed  all  the  neighboring  steeps. 
The  farm-house  level  commanded  the  best  view  of 
Lion's  Head,  and  the  visitors  always  mounted  to  it, 
whether  they  came  on  foot,  or  arrived  on  buckboards 
or  in  buggies,  or  drove  up  in  the  Concord  stages  from 
the  farther  and  nearer  hotels.  The  drivers  of  the 
coaches  rested  their  horses  there,  and  watered  them 
from  the  spring  that  dripped  into  the  green  log  at  the 
barn ;  the  passengers  scattered  about  the  door-yard  to 
look  at  the  Lion's  Head,  to  wonder  at  it  and  mock  at 
it,  according  to  their  several  makes  and  moods.  They 
could  scarcely  have  felt  that  they  ever  had  a  welcome 
from  the  stalwart,  handsome  woman  who  sold  them 
milk,,  if  they  wanted  it,  and  small  cakes  of  maple  sugar 
if  they  were  very  strenuous  for  something  else.  The 
ladies  were  not  able  to  make  much  of  her,  from  the 
first ;  but  some  of  them  asked  her  if  it  were  not  rather 
lonely  there,  and  she  said  that  when  you  heard  the  cat 
amounts  scream  at  night,  and  the  bears  growl  in  the 
spring,  it  did  seem  lonesome.  When  one  of  them  de 
clared  that  if  she  should  hear  a  catamount  scream,  or  a 
bear  growl,  she  should  die,  the  woman  answered,  Well, 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  3 

she  presumed  we  must  all  die  some  time.  But  the  ladies 
were  not  sure  of  a  covert  slant  in  her  words,  for  they 
were  spoken  with  the  same  look  she  wore  when  she 
told  them  that  the  milk  was  five  cents  a  glass,  and  the 
black  maple  sugar  three  cents  a  cake.  She  did  not 
change  when  she  owned  upon  their  urgence  that  the 
gaunt  man  whom  they  glimpsed  around  the  corners  of 
the  house  was  her/Husband,  and  the  three  lank  boys 
with  him  were  her  sons ;  that  the  children  whose  faces 
watched  them  through  the  writhing  window-panes  were 
her  two  little  girls ;  that  the  urchin  who  stood  shyly 
twisted,  all  but  his  white  head  and  sunburnt  face,  into 
her  dress,  and  glanced  at  them  with  a  mocking  blue 
eye,  was  her  youngest,  and  that  he  was  three  years 
old.  With  like  coldness  of  voice  and  face,  she  as- 
"sented  to  their  conjecture  that  the  space  walled  off  in 
the  farther  corner  of  the  orchard  was  the  family  burial- 
ground  ;  and  she  said,  with  no  more  feeling  that  the 
ladies  could  see  than  she  had  shown  concerning  the 
other  facts,  that  the  graves  they  saw  were  those  of  her 
husband's  family  and  of  the  children  she  had  lost : 
there  had  been  ten  children,  and  she  had  lost  four. 
She  did  not  visibly  shrink  from  the  pursuit  of  the 
sympathy  which  expressed  itself  in  curiosity  as  to  the 
sicknesses  they  had  died  of ;  the  ladies  left  her  with 
the  belief  that  they  had  met  a  character,  and  she  re 
mained  with  the  conviction,  briefly  imparted  to  her 
husband,  that  they  were  tonguey. 

The  summer  folks  came  more  and  more,  every  year, 
with  little  variance  in  the  impression  on  either  side. 
When  they  told  her  that  her  maple  sugar  would  sell 


4  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

better  if  the  cake  had  an  image  of  Lion's  Head  stamped 
on  it,  she  answered  that  she  got  enough  of  Lion's 
Head  without  wanting  to  see  it  *on  all  the  sugar  she 
made.  But  the  next  year  the  cakes  bore  a  rude  effigy 
of  Lion's  Head,  and  she  said  that  one  of  her  boys  had 
cut  the  stamp  out  with  his  knife ;  she  now  charged 
five  cents  a  cake  for  the  sugar,  but  her  manner  re 
mained  the  same.  It  did  not  change  when  the  excur 
sionists  drove  away,  and  the  deep  silence  native  to  the 
place  fell  after  their  chatter.  When  a  cock  crew,  or 
a  cow  lowed,  or  a  horse  neighed,  or  one  of  the  boys 
shouted  to  the  cattle,  an  echo  retorted  from  the  gran 
ite  base  of  Lion's  Head,  and  then  she  had  all  the  noise 
she  wanted,  or,  at  any  rate,  all  the  noise  there  was, 
most  of  the  time.  Now  and  then  a  wagon  passed  on 
the  stony  road  by  the  brook  in  the  valley,  and  sent 
up  its  clatter  to  the  farm-house  on  its  high  shelf,  but 
there  was  scarcely  another  break  from  the  silence,  ex 
cept  when  the  coaching  parties  came.  The  continuous 
clash  and  rush  of  the  brook  was  like  a  part  of  the 
silence,  as  the  red  of  the  farm-house  and  the  barn  was 
like  a  part  of  the  green  of  the  fields  and  woods  all 
round  them  :  the  black-green  of  pines  and  spruces,  the 
yellow-green  of  maples  and  birches,  dense  to  the  tops 
of  the  dreary  hills,  and  breaking  like  a  baffled  sea 
around  the  Lion's  Head. 

The  farmer  stooped  at  his  work,  with  a  thin,  inward- 
curving  chest,  but  his  wife  stood  straight  at  hers ;  and 
she  had  a  massive  beauty  of  figure,  and  a  heavily 
moulded  regularity  of  feature  that  impressed  such  as 
had  eyes  to  see  her  grandeur  among  the  summer  folks. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  5 

She  was  forty  when  they  began  to  come,  and  an  ashen 
gray  was  creeping  over  the  reddish  heaps  of  her  hair, 
like  the  pallor  that  overlies  the  crimson  of  the  autum 
nal  oak.  She  showed  her  age  earlier  than  most  fair 
people,  but  since  her  marriage  at  eighteen  she  had 
lived  long  in  the  deaths  of  the  children  she  had  lost. 
They  were  born  with  the  taint  of  their  father's  family, 
and  they  withered  from  their  cradles.  The  youngest 
boy  alone,  of  all  her  brood,  seemed  to  have  inherited 
her  health  and  strength.  The  rest  as  they  grew  up 
began  to  cough,  as  she  had  heard  her  husband's  broth 
ers  and  sisters  cough,  and  then  she  waited  in  hapless 
patience  the  fulfilment  of  their  doom.  The  two  little 
girls  whose  faces  the  ladies  of  the  first  coaching  party 
saw  at  the  farm-house  windows  had  died  away  from 
them;  two  of  the  lank  boys  had  escaped,  and  in  the 
perpetual  exile  of  California  and  Colorado  had  saved 
themselves  alive.  Their  father  talked  of  going  too, 
but  ten  years  later  he  still  dragged  himself  spectrally 
about  the  labors  of  the  farm,  with  the  same  cough  at 
sixty  which  made  his  oldest  son  at  twenty-nine  look 
scarcely  younger  than  himself. 


II. 

ONE  soft  noon  in  the  middle  of  August  the  farmer 
came  in  from  the  corn-field  that  an  early  frost  had 
blighted,  and  told  his  wife  that  they  must  give  it  up. 
He  said,  in  his  weak,  hoarse  voice,  with  the  catarrhal 
catching  in  it,  that  it  was  no  use  trying  to  make  a  liv 
ing  on  the  farm  any  longer.  The  oats  had  hardly 
been  worth  cutting,  and  now  the  corn  was  gone,  and 
there  was  not  hay  enough  without  it  to  winter  the 
stock;  if  they  got  through  themselves  they  would  have 
to  live  on  potatoes.  Have  a  vendue,  and  sell  out 
everything  before  the  snow  flew,  and  let  the  State  take 
the  farm  and  get  what  it  could  for  it,  and  turn  over 
the  balance  that  was  left  after  the  taxes ;  the  interest 
of  the  savings-bank  mortgage  would  soon  eat  that  up. 

The  long,  loose  cough  took  him,  and  another  cough 
answered  it  like  an  echo  from  the  barn,  where  his  son 
was  giving  the  horses  their  feed.  The  mild,  wan-eyed 
young  man  came  round  the  corner  presently  towards 
the  porch  where  his  father  and  mother  were  sitting, 
and  at  the  same  moment  a  boy  came  up  the  lane  to 
the  other  corner  ;  there  were  sixteen  years  between  the 
ages  of  the  brothers,  who  alone  were  left  of  the  chil- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  7 

dren  born  into  and  borne  out  of  the  house.  The  young 
man  waited  till  they  were  within  whispering  distance 
of  each  other,  and  then  he  gasped,  "  Where  you 
been?" 

The  boy  answered,  promptly,  "  None  your  business," 
and  went  up  the  steps  before  the  young  man,  with  a 
lop-eared,  liver-colored  mongrel  at  his  heels.  He 
pulled  off  his  ragged  straw  hat  and  flung  it  on  the  floor 
of  the  porch.  "  Dinner  over  ?  "  he  demanded. 

His  father  made  no  answer ;  his  mother  looked  at 
the  boy's  hands  and  face,  all  of  much  the  same  earth- 
ern  cast,  up  to  the  eaves  of  his  thatch  of  yellow  hair, 
and  said,  "  You  go  and  wash  yourself."  At  a  certain 
light  in  his  mother's  eye,  which  he  caught  as  he  passed 
into  the  house,  with  his  dog,  the  boy  turned  and  cut 
a  defiant  caper.  The  oldest  son  sat  down  on  the  bench 
beside  his  father,  and  they  all  looked  in  silence  at  the 
mountain  before  them.  They  heard  the  boy  whistling 
behind  the  house  with  sputtering  and  blubbering 
noises,  as  if  he  were  washing  his  face  while  he  whistled ; 
and  then  they  heard  him  singing,  with  a  muffled 
sound,  and  sharp  breaks  from  the  muffled  sound,  as  if 
he  were  singing  into  the  towel ;  he  shouted  to  his  dog 
and  threatened  him,  and  the  scuffling  of  his  feet  came 
to  them  through  all,  as  if  he  were  dancing. 

"Been  after  them  woodchucks,  ag'in,"  his  father 
huskily  suggested. 

"  I  guess  so,"  said  the  mother.  The  brother  did 
not  speak ;  he  coughed  vaguely,  and  let  his  head  sink 
forward. 

The  father  began  a  statement  of  his  affairs. 


8  THE    LANDLORD    A?    LION'S    HEAD. 

The  mother  said :  "  You  don't  want  to  go  into  that ; 
we  been  all  over  it  before.  If  it's  come  to  the  pinch, 
now,  it's  come.  But  you  want  to  be  sure." 

The  man  did  not  answer  directly.  "  If  we  could 
sell  off  now,  and  get  out  to  where  Jim  is  in  Californy, 
and  get  a  piece  of  land —  "  He  stopped,  as  if  confront 
ed  with  some  difficulty  which  he  had  met  before,  but 
had  hoped  he  might  not  find  in  his  way  this  time. 

His  wife  laughed  grimly.  "  I  guess  if  the  truth 
was  known,  we're  too  poor  to  get  away." 

"  We're  poor,"  he  whispered  back.  He  added,  with 
a  weak  obstinacy,  "  I  d'  know  as  we're  as  poor  as  that 
comes  to.  The  things  would  fetch  something." 

"  Enough  to  get  us  out  there,  and  then  we  should 
be  on  Jim's  hands,"  said  the  woman. 

"  We  should  till  spring,  maybe.  I  d'  know  as  I  want 
to  face  another  winter  here,  and  I  d'  know  as  Jackson 
does." 

The  young  man  gasped  back,  courageously,  "  I  guess 
I  can  get  along  here  well  enough." 

"  It's  made  Jim  ten  years  younger.  That's  what 
he  said,"  urged  the  father. 

The  mother  smiled  as  grimly  as  she  had  laughed. 
"  I  don't  believe  it'  11  make  you  ten  years  richer,  and 
that's  what  you  want." 

"  I  don't  believe  but  what  we  should  ha'  done  some 
thing  with  the  place  by  spring.  Or  the  State  would," 
the  father  said,  lifelessly. 

The  voice  of  the  boy  broke  in  upon  them  from  be 
hind.  "  Say,  mother  !  A'n't  you  never  goin'  to  have 
dinner  ? "  He  was  standing  in  the  doorway,  with  a 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  9 

startling  cleanness  of  the  hands  and  face,  and  a  strange 
wet  sleekness  of  the  hair.  His  clothes  were  bedrab- 
bled  down  the  front  with  soap  and  water. 

His  mother  rose  and  went  towards  him ;  his  father 
and  brother  rose  like  apparitions,  and  slanted  after  her 
at  one  angle. 

"  Say  !  "  the  boy  called  again  to  his  mother.  "  There 
comes  a  peddler."  He  pointed  down  the  road  at  the 
figure  of  a  man  briskly  ascending  the  lane  towards  the 
house,  with  a  pack  on  his  back,  and  some  strange  ap 
pendages  dangling  from  it. 

The  woman  did  not  look  round ;  neither  of  the  men 
looked  round ;  they  all  kept  on  in-doors,  and  she  said 
to  the  boy,  as  she  passed  him :  "  I  got  no  time  to 
waste  on  peddlers.  You  tell  him  we  don't  want  any 
thing." 

The  boy  waited  for  the  figure  on  the  lane  to  ap 
proach.  It  was  the  figure  of  a  young  man,  who  slung 
his  burden  lightly  from  his  shoulders  when  he  arrived, 
and  then  stood  looking  at  the  boy,  with  his  foot 
planted  on  the  lowermost  tread  of  the  steps  climbing 
from  the  ground  to  the  porch, 


III. 

THE  boy  must  have  permitted  these  advances  that 
he  might  inflict  the  greater  disappointment  when  he 
spoke.  "  We  don't  want  anything,"  he  said,  insolently. 

"  Don't  you  ?  "  the  stranger  returned.  "  /  do.  I 
want  dinner.  Go  in  and  tell  your  mother,  and  then 
show  me  where  I  can  wash  my  hands." 

The  bold  ease  of  the  stranger  seemed  to  daunt  the 
boy,  and  he  stood  irresolute.  His  dog  came  round 
the  corner  of  the  house  at  the  first  word  of  the  parley, 
and  while  his  master  was  making  up  his  mind  what  to 
do,  he  smelled  at  the  stranger's  legs.  "  Well,  you 
can't  have  any  dinner,"  said  the  boy,  tentatively.  The 
dog  raised  the  bristles  on  his  neck,  and  showed  his 
teeth  with  a  snarl.  The  stranger  promptly  kicked 
him  in  the  jaw,  and  the  dog  ran  off,  howling.  "  Come 
here,  sir  !  "  the  boy  called  to  him,  but  the  dog  vanished 
round  the  house  with  a  fading  yelp. 

"  Now,  young  man,"  said  the  stranger,  "  will  you 
go  and  do  as  you're  bid  ?  I'm  ready  to  pay  for  my 
dinner,  and  you  can  say  so."  The  boy  stared  at  him, 
slowly  taking  in  the  facts  of  his  costume,  with  eyes 
that  climbed  from  the  heavy  shoes  up  the  legs  of  his 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD,  11 

thick-ribbed  stockings  and  his  knickerbockers,  past 
the  pleats  and  belt  of  his  Norfolk  jacket,  to  the  red 
neckcloth  tied  under  the  loose  collar  of  his  flannel 
outing-shirt,  and  so  by  his  face,  with  its  soft  young 
beard,  and  its  quiet  eyes,  to  the  top  of  his  braidless, 
bandless  slouch  hat  of  soft  felt.  It  was  one  of  the 
earliest  costumes  of  the  kind  that  had  shown  itself  in 
the  hill  country,  and  it  was  altogether  new  to  the  boy. 
"  Come,"  said  the  wearer  of  it,  "  don't  stand  on  the 
order  of  your  going,  but  go  at  once,"  and  he  sat  down 
on  the  steps  with  his  back  to  the  boy,  who  heard  these 
strange  terms  of  command  with  a  face  of  vague  envy. 

The  noonday  sunshine  lay  in  a  thin  silvery  glister 
on  the  slopes  of  the  mountain  before  them,  and  in  the 
brilliant  light  the  colossal  forms  of  the  Lion's  Head 
were  prismatically  outlined  against  the  speckless  sky. 
Through  the  silvery  veil  there  burnt  here  and  there  on 
the  densely  wooded  acclivities  the  crimson  torch  of 
a  maple,  kindled  before  its  time,  but  everywhere  else 
there  was  the  unbroken  green  of  the  forest,  subdued 
to  one  tone  of  gray.  The  boy  heard  the  stranger  fetch 
his  breath  deeply,  and  then  expel  it  in  a  long  sigh, 
before  he  could  bring  himself  to  obey  an  order  that 
seemed  to  leave  him  without  the  choice  of  disobedi 
ence.  He  came  back,  and  found  the  stranger  as  he 
had  left  him.  "  Come  on,  if  you  want  your  dinner," 
he  said ;  and  the  stranger  rose  and  looked  at  him. 

"  What's  your  name  ? "  he  asked. 

"Thomas  Jefferson  Durgin." 

"  Well,  Thomas  Jefferson  Durgin,  will  you  show  me 
the  way  to  the  pump,  and  bring  a  towel  along  \ " 


12  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Want  to  wash  ? " 

"  I  haven't  changed  my  mind." 

"  Come  along,  then."  The  boy  made  a  movement 
as  if  to  lead  the  way  in-doors;  the  stranger  arrested 
him. 

"  Here  !  Take  hold  of  this,  and  put  it  out  of  the 
rush  of  travel,  somewhere."  He  lifted  his  burden 
from  where  he  had  dropped  it  in  the  road,  and  swung 
it  towards  the  boy,  who  ran  down  the  steps  and  em 
braced  it.  As  he  carried  it  towards  a  corner  of  the 
porch,  he  felt  of  the  various  shapes  and  materials  in  it. 

Then  he  said  "  Come  on !  "  again,  and  went  before 
the  guest  through  the  dim  hall  running  midway  of 
the  house  to  the  door  at  the  rear.  He  left  him  on  a 
narrow  space  of  stone  flagging  there,  and  ran  with  a 
tin  basin  to  the  spring  at  the  barn,  and  brought  it 
back  to  him  full  of  the  cold  water. 

"  Towel,"  he  said,  pulling  at  the  family  roller  inside 
the  little  porch  at  the  door;  and  he  watched  the 
stranger  wash  his  hands  and  face,  and  then  search  for 
a  fresh  place  on  the  towel. 

Before  the  stranger  had  finished,  the  father  and  the 
elder  brother  came  out,  and  after  an  ineffectual  attempt 
to  salute  him,  slanted  away  to  the  barn  together.  The 
woman,  in-doors,  was  more  successful,  when  he  found 
her  in  the  dining-room,  where  the  boy  showed  him. 
The  table  was  set  for  him  alone,  and  it  affected  him 
as  if  the  family  had  been  hurried  away  from  it  that 
he  might  have  it  to  himself.  Everything  was  very 
simpl-e;  the  iron  forks  had  two  prongs;  the  knives 
bone  handles;  the  dull  glass  was  pressed;  the  heavy 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  13 

plates  and  cups  were  white,  but  so  was  the  cloth,  and 
all  were  clean.  The  woman  brought  in  a  good  boiled 
dinner  of  corned  beef,  potatoes,  turnips,  and  carrots, 
from  the  kitchen,  and  a  teapot,  and  said  something 
about  having  kept  them  hot  on  the  stove  for  him ;  she 
brought  him  a  plate  of  biscuit  fresh  from  the  oven ; 
then  she  said  to  the  boy,  "  You  come  out  and  have 
your  dinner  with  me,  Jeff,"  and  left  the  guest  to  make 
his  meal  unmolested. 

The  room  was  square,  with  two  north  windows  that 
looked  down  the  lane  he  had  climbed  to  the  house. 
An  open  door  led  into  the  kitchen  in  an  ell,  and  a 
closed  door  opposite  probably  gave  access  to  a  parlor 
or  a  ground-floor  chamber.  The  windows  were  dark 
ened  down  to  the  lower  sash  by  green  paper  shades ; 
the  walls  were  papered  in  a  pattern  of  brown  roses ; 
over  the  chimney  hung  a  large  picture,  a  life-size 
pencil-drawing  of  two  little  girls,  one  slightly  older 
and  slightly  larger  than  the  other,  each  with  round 
eyes  and  precise  ringlets,  and  with  her  hand  clasped 
in  the  other's  hand. 

The  guest  seemed  helpless  to  take  his  gaze  from  it, 
and  he  sat  fallen  back  in  his  chair  at  it,  when  the 
woman  came  in  with  a  pie. 

"  Thank  you,  I  believe  I  don't  want  any  dessert," 
he  said.  "  The  fact  is,  the  dinner  was  so  good  that 
I  haven't  left  any  room  for  pie.  Are  those  your 
children  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  woman,  looking  up  at  the  picture 
with  the  pie  in  her  hand.  "  They're  the  last  two  I 
lost." 


14  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Oh,  excuse  me  !  "  the  guest  began. 

"  It's  the  way  they  appear  in  the  spirit  life.  It's  a 
spirit  picture." 

"  Oh  !  I  thought  there  was  something  strange  about 
it." 

"  Well,  it's  a  good  deal  like  the  photograph  we  had 
taken  about  a  year  before  they  died.  It's  a  good  like 
ness.  They  say  they  don't  change  a  great  deal,  at 
first." 

She  seemed  to  refer  the  point  to  him  for  his  judg 
ment  ;  but  he  answered  wide  of  it : 

"  I  came  up  here  to  paint  your  mountain,  if  you 
don't  mind,  Mrs.  Durgin  — Lion's  Head,  I  mean." 

"  Oh,  yes.  Well,  I  don't  know  as  we  could  stop 
you,  if  you  wanted  to  take  it  away."  A  spare  glim 
mer  lighted  up  her  face. 

The  painter  rejoined  in  kind.  "The  town  might 
have  something  to  say,  I  suppose." 

"  Not  if  you  was  to  leave  a  good  piece  of  intervale 
in  place  of  it.  We've  got  mountains  to  spare." 

"  Well,  then,  that's  arranged.  What  about  a  week's 
board  ? " 

"  I  guess  you  can  stay,  if  you're  satisfied." 

"  I'll  be  satisfied  if  I  can  stay.  How  much  do  you 
want  ? " 

The  woman  looked  down,  probably  with  an  inward 
anxiety  between  the  fear  of  asking  too  much  and  the 
folly  of  asking  too  little.  She  said,  tentatively,  "  Some 
of  the  folks  that  come  over  from  the  hotels  say  they 
pay  as  much  as  twenty  dollars  a  week." 

"  But  you  don't  expect  hotel  prices  ? " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION:S    HEAD.  15 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  do.  We've  never  had  anybody 
before." 

The  stranger  relaxed  the  frown  he  had  put  on  at  the 
greed  of  her  suggestion ;  it  might  have  come  from  ig 
norance  or  mere  innocence.  "  I'm  in  the  habit  of  pay 
ing  five  dollars  for  farm  board,  where  I  stay  several 
weeks.  What  do  you  say  to  seven  for  a  single  week  ? " 

"  I  guess  that'  11  do,"  said  the  woman,  and  she  went 
out  with  the  pie,  which  she  had  kept  in  her  hand. 


IV. 

THE  painter  went  round  to  the  front  of  the  house 
and  walked  up  and  down  before  it  for  different  points 
of  view.  He  ran  down  the  lane  some  way,  and  then 
came  back,  and  climbed  to  the  sloping  field  behind 
the  barn,  where  he  could  look  at  Lion's  Head  over  the 
roof  of  the  house.  He  tried  an  open  space  in  the 
orchard,  where  he  backed  against  the  wall  enclosing 
the  little  burial-ground.  He  looked  round  at  it  with 
out  seeming  to  see  it,  and  then  went  back  to  the  level 
where  the  house  stood.  "  This  is  the  place,"  he  said 
to  himself.  But  the  boy,  who  had  been  lurking  after 
him,  with  the  dog  lurking  at  his  own  heels  in  turn, 
took  the  words  as  a  proffer  of  conversation. 

"  I  thought  you'd  come  to  it,"  he  sneered. 

"  Did  you  ? "  asked  the  painter,  with  a  smile  for  the 
unsatisfied  grudge  in  the  boy's  tone.  "  Why  didn't 
you  tell  me  sooner  ? " 

The  boy  looked  down,  and  apparently  marie  up  his 
mind  to  wait  until  something  sufficiently  severe  should 
come  to  him  for  a  retort.  "  Want  I  should  help  you 
get  your  things?"  he  asked,  presently. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  the  painter,  with  a  glance  of  sur- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  17 

prise.  "  I  shall  be  much  obliged  for  a  lift."  He 
started  towards  the  porch  where  his  burden  lay,  and 
the  boy  ran  before  him.  They  jointly  separated  the 
knapsack  from  the  things  tied  to  it,  and  the  painter 
let  the  boy  carry  the  easel  and  camp-stool  which  de 
veloped  themselves  from  their  folds  and  hinges,  and 
brought  the  colors  and  canvas  himself  to  the  spot  he 
had  chosen.  The  bo  y  looked  at  the  tag  on  the  easel 
after  it  was  placed,  and  read  the  name  on  it — Jere 
Westover.  "  That's  a  funny  name." 

"  I'm  glad  it  amuses  you,"  said  the  owner  of  it. 

Again  the  boy  cast  down  his  eyes  discomfited,  and 
seemed  again  resolving  silently  to  bide  his  time  and 
watch  for  another  chance. 

Westover  forgot  him  in  the  fidget  he  fell  into,  try 
ing  this  and  that  effect,  with  his  head  slanted  one  way, 
and  then  slanted  the  other,  his  hand  held  up  to  shut 
out  the  mountain  below  the  granite  mass  of  Lion's 
Head,  and  then  changed  to  cut  off  the  sky  above ;  and 
then  both  hands  lifted  in  parallel  to  confine  the  pict 
ure.  He  made  some  tentative  scrawls  on  his  canvas 
in  charcoal,  and  he  wasted  so  much  time  that  the  light 
on  the  mountain-side  began  to  take  the  rich  tone  of 
the  afternoon  deepening  to  evening.  A  soft  flush  stole 
into  it ;  the  sun  dipped  behind  the  top  south  of  the 
mountain,  and  Lion's  Head  stood  out  against  the  in 
tense  clearness  of  the  west,  which  began  to  be  flushed 
with  exquisite  suggestions  of  violet  and  crimson. 

"Good  Lord!"  said  Westover;  and  he  flew  at  his 
colors  and  began  to  paint.  He  had  got  his  canvas 
into  such  a  state  that  he  alone  could  have  found  it 
B 


18  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

much  more  intelligible  than  his  palette,  when  he  heard 
the  hoy  saying,  over  his  shoulder,  "  I  don't  think  that 
looks  very  much  like  it."  He  had  last  been  aware  of 
the  boy  sitting  at  the  grassy  edge  of  the  lane,  tossing 
small  bits  of  earth  and  pebble  across  to  his  dog,  which 
sat  at  the  other  edge,  and  snapped  at  them.  Then  he 
lost  consciousness  of  him.  He  answered,  dreamily, 
while  he  found  a  tint  he  was  trying  for  with  his  brush, 
"  Perhaps  you  don't  know."  He  was  so  sure  of  his 
effect  that  the  popular  censure  speaking  in  the  boy's 
opinion  only  made  him  happier  in  it. 

"  I  know  what  I  see,"  said  the  boy. 

"  I  doubt  it,"  said  Westover,  and  then  he  lost  con 
sciousness  of  him  again.  He  was  rapt  deep  and  far 
into  the  joy  of  his  work,  and  had  no  thought  but  for 
that,  and  for  the  dim  question  whether  it  would  be 
such  another  day  to-morrow,  with  that  light  again  on 
Lion's  Head,  when  he  was  at  last  sensible  of  a  noise 
that  he  felt  he  must  have  been  hearing  some  time 
without  noting  it.  It  was  a  lamentable  sound  of 
screaming,  as  of  some  one  in  mortal  terror,  mixed 
with  wild  entreaties.  "  Oh,  don't,  Jeff !  Oh,  don't, 
don't,  don't !  Oh,  please  !  Oh,  do  let  us  be  !  Oh, 
Jeff,  don't !  " 

Westover  looked  round  bewildered,  and  not  able, 
amid  the  clamor  of  the  echoes,  to  make  out  where  the 
cries  came  from.  Then,  down  at  the  point  where  the 
lane  joined  the  road  to  the  southward,  and  the  road 
lost  itself  in  the  shadow  of  a  woodland,  he  saw  the 
boy  leaping  back  and  forth  across  the  track,  with  his 
dog  beside  him ;  he  was  shouting  and  his  dog  barking 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  19 

furiously;  those  screams  and  entreaties  came  from 
within  the  shadow.  Westover  plunged  down  the  lane 
headlong,  with  a  speed  that  gathered  at  each  bound, 
and  that  almost  flung  him  on  his  face  when  he  reached 
the  level  where  the  boy  and  the  dog  were  dancing 
back  and  forth  across  the  road.  Then  he  saw,  crouch 
ing  in  the  edge  of  the  wood,  a  little  girl,  who  was 
uttering  the  appeals  he  had  heard,  and  clinging  to 
her,  with  a  face  of  frantic  terror,  a  child  of  five  or  six 
years;  his  cries  had  grown  hoarse,  and  had  a  hard, 
mechanical  action  as  they  followed  one  another.  They 
were  really  in  no  danger,  for  the  boy  held  his  dog 
tight  by  his  collar,  and  was  merely  delighting  himself 
with  their  terror.  The  painter  hurled  himself  upon 
him,  and  with  a  quick  grip  upon  his  collar,  gave  him 
half  a  dozen  flat-handed  blows  wherever  he  could  plant 
them,  and  then  flung  him  reeling  away. 

"  You  infernal  little  ruffian  !  "  he  roared  at  him ;  and 
the  sound  of  his  voice  was  enough  for  the  dog ;  he 
began  to  scale  the  hill-side  towards  the  house  without 
a  moment's  stay. 

The  children  still  crouched  together,  and  Westover 
could  hardly  make  them  understand  that  they  were  in 
his  keeping  when  he  bent  over  them,  and  bade  them 
not  be  frightened.  The  little  girl  set  about  wiping 
the  child's  eyes  on  her  apron  in  a  motherly  fashion ; 
her  own  were  dry  enough,  and  Westover  fancied  there 
was  more  of  fury  than  of  fright  in  her  face.  She 
seemed  lost  to  any  sense  of  his  presence,  and  kept  on 
talking  fiercely  to  herself,  while  she  put  the  little  boy 
in  order,  like  an  indignant  woman.  "Great,  mean, 


20  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

ugly  thing !  I'll  tell  the  teacher  on  him,  that's  what 
I  will,  as  soon  as  ever  school  begins.  I'll  see  if  he 
can  come  round  with  that  dog  of  his  scaring  folks ! 
I  wouldn't  V  been  a  bit  afraid  if  it  hadn't  'a'  been  for 
Franky.  Don't  cry  any  more,  Franky  !  Don't  you 
see  they're  gone  ?  I  presume  he  thinks  it  smart  to 
scare  a  little  boy  and  a  girl.  If  I  was  a  boy,  once,  I'd 
show  him." 

She  made  no  sign  of  gratitude  to  Westover :  as  far 
as  any  recognition  from  her  was  concerned,  his  inter 
vention  was  something  as  impersonal  as  if  it  had  been 
a  thunder-bolt  falling  upon  her  enemies  from  the  sky. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ? "  he  asked.  "  I'll  go  home 
with  you,  if  you'll  tell  me  where  you  live." 

She  looked  up  at  him  in  a  daze,  and  Westover  heard 
the  Durgin  boy  saying,  "  She  lives  right  there  in  that 
little  wood-colored  house  at  the  other  end  of  the  lane. 
There  ain't  no  eall  to  go  home  with  her." 

Westover  turned,  and  saw  the  boy  kneeling  at  the 
edge  of  a  clump  of  bushes,  where  he  must  have  struck ; 
he  was  rubbing  with  a  tuft  of  grass  at  the  dirt  ground 
into  the  knees  of  his  trousers. 

The  little  girl  turned  hawkishly  upon  him.  "  Not 
for  anything  you  can  do,  Jeff  Durgin  !  " 

The  boy  did  not  answer. 

"  There  !  "  she  said,  giving  a  final  pull  and  twitch 
to  the  dress  of  her  brother,  and  taking  him  by  the 
hand  tenderly.  "  Now,  come  right  along,  Franky." 

"  Let  me  have  your  other  hand,"  said  Westover,  and 
with  the  little  boy  between  them  they  set  off  towards 
the  point  where  the  lane  joined  the  road  on  the  north- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  21 

ward.  They  had  to  pass  the  bushes  where  Jeff  Dur 
gin  was  crouching,  and  the  little  girl  turned  and  made 
a  face  at  him.  "  Oh,  oh !  I  don't  think  I  should  have 
done  that !  "  said  Westover. 

"  I  don't  care !  "  said  the  little  girl.  But  she  said, 
in  explanation  and  partial  excuse :  "  He  tries  to  scare 
all  the  girls.  I'll  let  him  know' t  he  can't  scare  me." 

o 

Westover  looked  up  towards  the  Durgin  house  with 
a  return  of  interest  in  the  canvas  he  had  left  in  the 
lane  on  the  easel.  Nothing  had  happened  to  it.  At 
the  door  of  the  barn  he  saw  the  farmer  and  his  eldest 
son,  slanting  forward  and  staring  down  the  hill  at  the 
point  he  had  come  from.  Mrs.  Durgin  was  looking 
out  from  the  shelter  of  the  porch,  and  she  turned  and 
went  in  with  Jeff's  dog  at  her  skirts  when  Westover 
came  in  sight  with  the  children. 


V. 

WESTOVER  had  his  tea  with  the  family,  but  nothing 
was  said  or  done  to  show  that  any  of  them  resented 
or  even  knew  of  what  had  happened  to  the  boy  from 
him.  Jeff  himself  seemed  to  have  no  grudge.  He 
went  out  with  Westover,  when  the  meal  was  ended, 
and  sat  on  the  steps  of  the  porch  with  him,  watching 
the  painter  watch  the  light  darken  on  the  lonely 
heights  and  in  the  lonely  depths  around.  Westover 
smoked  a  pipe,  and  the  fire  gleamed  and  smouldered 
in  it  regularly  with  his  breathing ;  the  boy,  on  a  lower 
step,  pulled  at  the  long  ears  of  his  dog,  and  gazed  up 
at  him. 

They  were  both  silent  till  the  painter  asked,  "  What 
do  you  do  here,  when  you're  not  trying  to  scare  little 
children  to  death  ? " 

The  boy  hung  his  head,  and  said,  with  the  effect  of 
excusing  a  long  arrears  of  uselessness,  "  I'm  goin'  to 
school  as  soon  as  it  commences." 

"  There's  one  branch  of  your  education  that  I  should 
like  to  undertake,  if  I  ever  saw  you  at  a  thing  like 
that  again.  Don't  you  feel  ashamed  of  yourself  ?  " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  23 

Th^  boy  pulled  so  hflrd  at  the  dog's  ear  that  the 
dog  g  we  a  faint  yelp  of  protest. 

"  They  might  'a'  seen  that  I  had  him  by  the  collar. 
I  wa'n''  a-g<>in'  to  let  go." 

"  We.'l,  the  next  time  I  have  you  by  the  collar,  / 
won't  let  go,  cither,"  said  the  painter;  but  he  felt  an 
inadequacy  iii  ids  threat,  and  he  imagined  a  superflu 
ity,  and  he  made  some  haste  to  ask,  "  Who  are  they  ? " 

"  Whit  well  is  their  name.  They  live  in  that  little 
house  where  you  took  them.  Their  father's  got  a  piece 
of  land  on  Lion's  Head  that  he's  clearin'  off  for  the 
p.  Their  mother's  dead,  and  Cynthy  keeps  house. 
She's  always  makin'  up  names  and  faces,"  added  the 
boy.  "  She  thinks  herself  awful  smart.  That  Franky's 
a  perfect  cry-baby." 

"  Well,  upon  my  word  !  You  are  a  little  ruffian," 
said  Westover,  and  he  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his 
pipe.  "  The  next  time  you  meet  that  poor  little  creat 
ure,  you  tell  her  that  I  think  you're  about  the  shabbi 
est  chap  I  know,  and  that  I  hope  the  teacher  will 
begin  where  I  left  off  with  you,  and  not  leave  black 
guard  enough  in  you  to — " 

He  stopped  for  want  of  a  fitting  figure,  and  the  boy 
said,  "  I  guess  the  teacher  won't  touch  me." 

Westover  rose,  and  the  boy  flung  his  dog  away  from 
him  with  his  foot.  "  Want  I  should  show  you  where 
to  sleep  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  Westover,  and  the  boy  hulked  in  be 
fore  him,  vanishing  into  the  dark  of  the  interior,  and 
presently  appeared  with  a  lighted  hand-lamp.  lie  led 
the  way  up-stairs  to  a  front  room  looking  down  upon 


24:  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

the  porch  roof,  and  over  towards  Lion's  Head,  which 
Westover  could  see  dimly  outlined  against  the  night 
sky,  when  he  lifted  the  edge  of  the  paper  shade  and 
peered  out. 

The  room  was  neat,  with  greater  comfort  in  its  ap 
pointments  than  he  hoped  for.  He  tried  the  bed, 
and  found  it  hard,  but  of  straw,  and  not  tha  feathers 
he  had  dreaded ;  while  the  boy  looked  into  the  water- 
pitcher,  to  see  if  it  was  full,  and  then  went  out  without 
any  form  of  good-night. 

Westover  would  have  expected  to  wash  in  a  tin 
basin  at  the  back  door,  and  wipe  on  the  family  towel, 
but  all  the  means  of  toilet,  such  as  they  were,  he 
found  at  hand  here,  and  a  surprise  which  he  had  felt 
at  a  certain  touch  in  the  cooking  renewed  itself  at  the 
intelligent  arrangements  for  his  comfort.  A  secondary 
quilt  was  laid  across  the  foot  of  his  bed ;  his  window- 
shade  was  pulled  down,  and  though  the  window  was 
shut,  and  the  air  stuffy  within,  there  was  a  sense  of 
cleanliness  in  everything  which  was  not  at  variance 
with  the  closeness. 

The  bed  felt  fresh  when  he  got  into  it,  and  the 
sweet  breath  of  the  mountains  came  in  so  cold  through 
the  sash  he  had  lifted  that  he  was  glad  to  pull  the 
secondary  quilt  up  over  him.  He  heard  the  clock  tick 
in  some  room  below ;  from  another  quarter  came  the 
muffled  sound  of  coughing;  but  otherwise  the  world 
was  intensely  still,  and  he  slept  deep  and  long. 


VI. 

THE  men  folks  had  finished  their  breakfast  and  gone 
to  their  farm-work  hours  before  Westover  came  down 
to  his  breakfast,  but  the  boy  seemed  to  be  of  as  much 
early  leisure  as  himself,  and  was  lounging  on  the 
threshold  of  the  back  door,  with  his  dog  in  waiting 
upon  him.  He  gave  the  effect  of  yesterday's  cleanli 
ness  freshened  up  with  more  recent  soap  and  water. 
At  the  moment  Westover  caught  sight  of  him,  he 
heard  his  mother  calling  to  him  from  the  kitchen, 
"  Well,  now,  come  in  and  get  your  breakfast,  Jeff," 
and  the  boy  called  to  Westover,  in  turn,  "I'll  tell 
her  you're  here,"  as  he  rose  and  came  in-doors.  "  I 
guess  she's  got  your  breakfast  for  you." 

Mrs.  Durgin  brought  the  breakfast  almost  as  soon 
as  Westover  had  found  his  way  to  the  table,  and  she 
lingered  as  if  for  some  expression  of  his  opinion  upon 
it.  The  biscuit  and  the  butter  were  very  good,  and 
he  said  so ;  the  eggs  were  fresh,  and  the  hash  from 
yesterday's  corned  beef  could  not  have  been  better, 
and  he  praised  them ;  but  he  was  silent  about  the 
coffee. 

"  It  a'n't  very  good,"  she  suggested. 


26  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Why,  I'm  used  to  making  my  own  coffee  ;  I  lived 
so  long  in  a  country  where  it's  nearly  the  whole  of 
breakfast  that  I  got  into  the  habit  of  it,  and  I  always 
carry  my  little  machine  with  me ;  but  I  don't  like  to 
bring  it  out,  unless — 

"Unless  you  can't  stand  the  other  folks's,"  said 
the  woman,  with  a  humorous  gleam.  "  Well,  you 
needn't  mind  me.  I  want  you  should  have  good  cof 
fee,  and  I  guess  I  a'n't  too  old  to  learn,  if  you  want 
to  show  me.  Our  folks  don't  care  for  it  much ;  they 
like  tea ;  and  I  kind  of  got  out  of  the  way  of  it.  But 
at  home  we  had  to  have  it."  She  explained,  to  his 
inquiring  glance.  "  My  father  kept  the  tavern  on  the 
old  road  to  St.  Albans,  on  the  other  side  of  Lion's 
Head.  That's  where  I  always  lived,  till  I  married 
here." 

"  Oh,"  said  Westover,  and  he  felt  that  she  had 
proudly  wished  to  account  for  a  quality  which  she 
hoped  he  had  noticed  in  her  cooking.  He  thought 
she  might  be  going  to  tell  him  something  more  of  her 
self,  but  she  only  said,  "  Well,  any  time  you  want  to 
show  me  your  way  of  makin'  coffee,"  and  went  out  of 
the  room. 

That  evening,  which  was  the  close  of  another  flaw 
less  day,  he  sat  again  watching  the  light  outside,  when 
he  saw  her  come  into  the  hallway  with  a  large  shade- 
lamp  in  her  hand.  She  stopped  at  the  door  of  a  room 
he  had  not  seen  yet,  and  looked  out  at  him  to  ask, 
"  Won't  you  come  in  and  set  in  the  parlor,  if  you 
want  to  ? " 

He  found  her  there  when  he  came  in,  and  her  two 


THE    LANDLOUD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  27 

sons  with  her ;  the  younger  was  sleepily  putting  away 
some  school-books,  and  the  elder  seemed  to  have  been 
helping  him  with  his  lessons. 

"  He's  got  to  begin  school  next  week,"  she  said  to 
Westover;  and  at  the  preparations  the  other  now 
began  to  make  with  a  piece  of  paper  and  a  planchette 
which  he  had  on  the  table  before  him,  she  asked,  in 
the  half-mocking,  half-deprecating  way  which  seemed 
characteristic  of  her,  "  You  believe  any  in  that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I've  ever  seen  it  work,"  said 
the  painter. 

"Well,  sometimes  it  worft  work,"  she  returned, 
altogether  mockingly  now,  and  sat  holding  her  shapely 
hands,  which  were  neither  so  large  nor  so  rough  as 
they  might  have  been,  across  her  middle,  and  watch 
ing  her  son  while  the  machine  pushed  about  under  his 
palm,  and  he  bent  his  wan  eyes  upon  one  of  the 
oval-framed  photographs  on  the  wall,  as  if  rapt  in  a 
supernal  vision.  The  boy  stared  drowsily  at  the  plan 
chette,  jerking  this  way  and  that,  and  making  abrupt 
starts  and  stops.  At  last  the  young  man  lifted  his 
palm  from  it,  and  put  it  aside  to  study  the  hieroglyph 
ics  it  had  left  on  the  paper. 

"  What's  it  say  ?  "  asked  his  mother. 

The  young  man  whispered,  "  I  can't  seem  to  make 
out  very  clear.  I  guess  'I  got  to  take  a  little  time  to  it," 
he  added,  leaning  back  wearily  in  his  chair.  "  Ever 
seen  much  of  the  manifestations  ?  "  he  gasped  at  West- 
over. 

"Never  any,  before,"  said  the  painter,  with  a  leni 
ency  for  the  invalid  which  he  did  not  feel  for  his  belief 


28  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

The  young  man  tried  for  his  voice,  and  found 
enough  of  it  to  say :  "  There's  a  trance  medium  over 
at  the  Huddle.  Her  control  says'  t  I  can  develop  into 
a  writin'  medium."  He  seemed  to  refer  the  fact  as  a 
sort  of  question  to  Westover,  who  could  think  of 
nothing  to  say  but  that  it  must  be  very  interesting  to 
feel  that  one  had  such  a  power. 

"  I  guess  he  don't  know  he's  got  it  yet,"  his  mother 
interposed.  "  And  planchette  don't  seem  to  know 
either." 

"  We  ha'n't  given  it  a  fair  trial  yet,"  said  the  young 
man,  impartially,  almost  impassively. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  see  it  do  some  of  your  sums, 
Jeff  ? "  said  the  mother  to  the  drowsy  boy,  blinking  in 
a  corner.  "  You  better  go  to  bed." 

The  elder  brother  rose.     "  I  guess  I'll  go  too." 

The  father  had  not  joined  their  circle  in  the  parlor, 
now  breaking  up  by  common  consent. 

Mrs.  Durgin  took  up  her  lamp  again,  and  looked 
round  on  the  appointments  of  the  room,  as  if  she 
wished  Westover  to  note  them  too :  the  drab  wall 
paper,  the  stiff  chairs,  the  long,  hard  sofa  in  hair 
cloth,  the  high  bureau  of  mahogany  veneer. 

"  You  can  come  in  here  and  set,  or  lay  down,  when 
ever  you  feel  like  it,"  she  said.  "  We  use  it  more 
than  folks  generally,  I  presume ;  we  got  in  the  habit, 
havin'  it  open  for  funerals." 


VII. 

FOUR  or  five  days  of  perfect  weather  followed  one 
another,  and  Westover  worked  hard  at  his  picture  in 
the  late  afternoon  light  he  had  chosen  for  it.  In  the 
morning  he  tramped  through  the  woods  and  climbed 
the  hills  with  Jeff  Durgin,  who  seemed  never  to  do 
anything  about  the  farm,  and  had  a  leisure  unbroken 
by  anything  except  a  rare  call  from  his  mother  to  help 
her  in  the  house.  He  built  the  kitchen  fire,  and  got 
the  wood  for  it ;  he  picked  the  belated  pease  and  the 
early  beans  in  the  garden,  and  shelled  them ;  on  the 
Monday  when  the  school  opened  he  did  a  share  of  the 
family  wash,  which  seemed  to  have  been  begun  before 
daylight,  and  Westover  saw  him  hanging  out  the 
clothes  before  he  started  off  with  his  books.  He  suf 
fered  no  apparent  loss  of  self-respect  in  these  employ 
ments,  and  while  he  still  had  his  days  free  he  put 
himself  at  Westover's  disposal  with  an  effect  of  unim 
paired  equality.  He  had  expected  evidently  that 
Westover  would  want  to  fish  or  shoot,  or  at  least  join 
him  in  the  hunt  for  woodchucks,  which  he  still  carried 
on  with  abated  zeal  for  lack  of  his  company  when  the 


30  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

painter  sat  down  to  sketch  certain  bits  that  struck  him. 
\Vhen  he  found  that  Westover  cared  for  nothing  in 
the  way  of  sport,  as  people  commonly  understand  it, 
he  did  not  openly  contemn  him.  He  helped  him  get 
the  flowers  he  studied,  and  he  learned  to  know  true 
mushrooms  from  him,  though  he  did  not  follow  his 
teaching  in  eating  the  toadstools,  as  his  mother  called 
them,  when  they  brought  them  home  to  be  cooked. 

If  it  could  not  be  said  that  he  shared  the  affection 
which  began  to  grow  up  in  Westover  from  their  com 
panionship,  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  the  interest  he 
took  in  him,  though  it  often  seemed  the  same  critical 
curiosity  which  appeared  in  the  eye  of  his  dog  when 
it  dwelt  upon  the  painter.  Fox  had  divined  in  his 
way  that  Westover  was  not  only  not  to  be  molested, 
but  was  to  be  respectfully  tolerated,  yet  no  gleam  of 
kindness  ever  lighted  up  his  face  at  sight  of  the  paint 
er  ;  he  never  wagged  his  tail  in  recognition  of  him ;  lie 
simply  recognized  him,  and  no  more,  and  he  remained 
passive  under  Westover's  advances,  which  he  had  the 
effect  of  covertly  referring  to  Jeff,  when  the  boy  was 
by,  for  his  approval  or  disapproval ;  when  he  was  not 
by,  the  dog's  manner  implied  a  reservation  of  opinion 
until  the  facts  could  be  submitted  to  his  master. 

On  the  Saturday  morning  which  was  the  last  they 
were  to  have  together,  the  three  comrades  had  strayed 
from  the  vague  wood  road  along  one  of  the  unexpected 
levels  on  the  mountain  slopes,  and  had  come  to  a 
standstill  in  a  place  which  the  boy  pretended  not  to 
know  his  way  out  of.  Westover  doubted  him,  for  he 
had  found  that  Jeff  liked  to  give  himself  credit  for 


THE    LANDLOIID    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  31 

woodcraft  by  discovering  an  escape  from  the  depths 
of  trackless  wildernesses. 

"I  guess  you  know  where  we  are,"  he  suggested. 

"  No,  honestly,"  said  the  boy  ;  but  he  grinned,  and 
Westover  still  doubted  him. 

"  Hark  !  What's  that  ?  "  he  said,  hushing  further 
speech  from  him  with  a  motion  of  his  hand.  It  was 
the  sound  of  an  axe. 

"  Oh,  /  know  where  we  are  !  "  said  Jeff.  "  It's  that 
Canuck  chopping  in  Whitwell's  clearing.  Come 
along ! " 

He  led  the  way  briskly  down  the  mountain-side 
now,  stopping  from  time  to  time,  and  verifying  his 
course  by  the  sound  of  the  axe.  This  came  and  went, 
and  by-and-by  it  ceased  altogether,  and  Jeff  crept  for 
ward  with  a  real  or  feigned  uncertainty.  Suddenly 
he  stopped.  A  voice  called,  "  Heigh,  there  ! "  and 
the  boy  turned  and  fled,  crashing  through  the  under 
brush  at  a  tangent,  with  his  dog  at  his  heels. 

Westover  looked  after  them,  and  then  came  for 
ward.  A  lank  figure  of  a  man  at  the  foot  of  a  poplar, 
which  he  had  begun  to  fell,  stood  waiting  him,  one 
hand  on  his  axe-helve  and  the  other  on  his  hip.  There 
was  the  scent  of  freshly  smitten  bark  and  sap-wood  in 
the  air ;  the  ground  was  paved  with  broad,  clean  chips. 

"  Good-morning,"  said  Westover. 

"  How  are  you  ?  "  returned  the  other,  without  moving 
or  making  any  sign  of  welcome  for  a  moment.  But 
then  he  lifted  his  axe,  and  struck  it  into  the  carf  on 
the  tree,  and  came  to  meet  Westover. 

As    he  advanced    he    held  out   his  hand.       "Ob, 


32  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

you're  tlie  one  that  stopped  that  fellow  that  day  when 
he  was  tryin'  to  scare  my  children.  Well,  I  thought 
I  should  run  across  you,  some  time."  He  shook  hands 
with  Westover,  in  token  of  the  gratitude  which  did 
not  express  itself  in  words.  "  How  are  you  ?  Treat 
you  pretty  well  up  at  the  Durgins '  ?  /guess  so.  The 
old  woman  knows  how  to  cook,  anyway.  Jackson's 
about  the  best  o'  the  lot  above  ground,  though  I  don't 
know  as  I  know  very  much  against  the  old  man,  either. 
But  that  boy,  I  declare  I  'most  feel  like  takin'  the 
top  of  his  head  off  when  he  gets  at  his  tricks.  Set 
down." 

Whitwell,  as  Westover  divined  the  man  to  be,  took 
a  seat  himself  on  a  high  stump,  which  suited  his 
length  of  leg,  and  courteously  waved  W^estover  to  a 
place  on  the  log  in  front  of  him.  A  long  ragged  beard 
of  brown,  with  lines  of  gray  in  it,  hung  from  his  chin, 
and  mounted  well  up  on  his  thin  cheeks  toward  his 
friendly  eyes.  His  mustache  lay  sunken  on  his  lip, 
which  had  fallen  in  with  the  loss  of  his  upper  teeth. 
From  the  lower  jaw  a  few  incisors  showed  at  this  slant 
and  that  as  he  talked. 

"  Well,  well !  "  he  said,  with  the  air  of  wishing  the 
talk  to  go  on,  but  without  having  anything  immedi 
ately  to  offer  himself. 

Westover  said,  "  Thank  you,"  as  he  dropped  on  the 
log,  and  Whitwell  added,  relentingly,  "  I  don't  suppose 
a  fellow's  so  much  to  blame,  if  he's  got  the  devil  in 
him,  as  what  the  devil  is." 

He  referred  the  point  with  a  twinkle  of  his  eyes  to 
Westover,  who  said :  "  It's  always  a  question,  of 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  33 

course,  whether  it's  the  devil.  It  may  be  original  sin 
with  the  fellow  himself." 

"  Well,  that's  something  so,"  said  Whitwell,  with 
pleasure  in  the  distinction  rather  than  assent.  "  But 
I  guess  it  ain't  original  sin  in  the  boy.  Got  it  from 
his  gran'father  pootty  straight,  I  should  say,  and  may 
be  the  old  man  had  it  second-hand.  Ha'd  to  say  just 
where  so  much  cussedness  gits  statted." 

"  His  father's  father  ?  "  asked  Westover,  willing  to 
humor  WhitwelPs  evident  wish  to  philosophize  the 
Durgins'  history. 

"  Mother's.  He  kept  the  old  tavern  stand  on  the 
west  side  of  Lion's  Head,  on  the  St.  Albans  Road,  and 
I  guess  he  kept  a  pootty  good  house  in  the  old  times 
when  the  stages  stopped  with  him.  Ever  noticed  how 
a  man  on  the  mean  side  in  politics  always  knows  how 
to  keep  a  hotel  ?  Well,  it's  something  curious.  If 
there  was  ever  a  mean  side  to  any  question,  old  Mason 
was  on  it.  My  folks  used  to  live  around  there,  and  I 
can  remember  when  I  was  a  boy  hangin'  around  the 
bar-room  nights  hearin'  him  argue  that  colored  folks 
had  no  souls ;  and  along  about  the  time  the  fugitive 
slave  law  was  passed,  the  folks  pootty  near  run  him 
out  o'  town  for  puttin'  the  United  States  Marshal  on 
the  scent  of  a  fellow  that  was  breakin'  for  Canada. 
Well,  it  was  just  so  when  the  war  come.  It  was  known 
for  a  fact  that  he  was  in  with  them  Secesh  devils  up 
over  the  line  that  was  planriin'  a  raid  into  Vermont  in 
'63.  He'd  got  pootty  low  down  by  that  time  ;  railroads 
took  off  all  the  travel ;  tavern  'd  got  to  be  a  regular 
doggery ;  old  man  always  drank  some,  I  guess.  That 


34  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

was  a  good  while  after  his  girl  had  married  Diii-gin. 
He  was  dead  against  it,  and  it  broke  him  up  consid'a- 
ble  when  she  would  have  him.  Well,  ene  night,  the 
old  stand  burnt  up  and  him  in  it,  and  neither  of  'em 
insured ! " 

Whitwell  laughed  with  a  pleasure  in  his  satire  which 
gave  the  monuments  in  his  lower  jaw  a  rather  sinister 
action.  But  as  if  he  felt  a  rebuke  in  Westover's 
silence,  he  added  :  "  There  ain't  anything  against  Mis' 
Durgin.  She's  done  her  part,  and  she's  had  more 
than  her  share  of  hard  knocks.  If  she  was  touwh  to 

&      " 

sta't  with,  she's  had  blows  enough  to  meller  her.  But 
that's  the  way  I  account  for  the  boy.  I  s'pose  I'd 
oughtn't  to  feel  the  way  I  do  about  him,  but  he's  such 
a  pest  to  the  whole  neighborhood  that  he'd  have  the 
most  pop'la'  fune'l —  Well,  I  guess  I've  said  enough. 
I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  though,  Mr. — " 

"  Westover,"  the  painter  suggested.  "  But  the  boy 
isn't  so  bad,  all  the  time." 

"  Couldn't  be ! "  said  Whitwell,  with  a  cackle  of 
humorous  enjoyment.  "He  has  his  spells  of  bein' 
decent,  and  he's  pootty  smart,  too.  But  when  the 
other  spell  ketches  him,  it's  like  as  if  the  devil  got  a 
hold  of  him.  as  I  said  in  the  first  place.  I  lost  my 
wife,  here,  two-three  years  along  back,  and  that  little 
girl  you  see  him  tormentin',  she's  a  regular  little  moth 
er  to  her  brother ;  and  whenever  Jeff  Durgin  sees  her 
with  him,  seems  as  if  the  Old  Scratch  got  into  him. 
Well,  I'm  glad  I  didn't  come  across  him,  that  day. 
How  you  gittin'  along  with  Lion's  Head  ?  Sets  quiet 
enough  for  you  !  "  Whitwell  rose  from  the  stump,  and 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  35 

brushed  the  clinging  chips  from  his  thighs.  "  Folks 
trouble  you  any,  lookin'  on  ? " 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Westover. 

"  Well,  there  ain't  a  great  many  to,"  said  Whitwell, 
going  back  to  his  axe.  "I  should  like  to  see  you 
workin'  some  day.  Do'  know  as  I  ever  saw  an  attist 
at  it." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  you,"  said  Westover.  "  Any 
time." 

"  All  right."  Whitwell  pulled  his  axe  out  of  the 
carf,  and  struck  it  in  again  with  a  force  that  made  a 
wide,  square  chip  leap  out.  He  looked  over  his  shoul 
der  at  Westover,  who  was  moving  away.  "  Say  !  Stop 
in,  some  time  you're  passin'.  I  live  in  that  wood-col 
ored  house  at  the  foot  of  the  Durgins'  lane." 


VIII. 

IN  a  little  sunken  place,  behind  a  rock,  some  rods 
away,  Westover  found  Jeff  lurking  with  his  dog,  both 
silent  and  motionless.  "  Hello  !  "  he  said,  inquiringly. 

"  Come  back  to  show  you  the  way,"  said  the  boy. 
"Thought  you  couldn't  find  it  alone." 

"  Oh  !  why  didn't  you  say  you'd  wait  ?  "  The  boy 
grinned.  "  I  shouldn't  think  a  fellow  like  you  would 
want  to  be  afraid  of  any  man,  even  for  the  fun  of  scar 
ing  a  little  girl."  Jeff  stopped  grinning,  and  looked 
interested,  as  if  this  was  a  view  of  the  case  that  had 
not  occurred  to  him.  "  But  perhaps  you  like  to  be 
afraid." 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  do,"  said  the  boy,  and  West- 
over  left  him  to  the  question  a  great  part  of  the  way 
home.  He  did  not  express  any  regret,  or  promise  any 
reparation.  But  a  few  days  after  that,  when  he  had 
begun  to  convoy  parties  of  children  up  to  see  West- 
over  at  work,  in  the  late  afternoon,  on  their  way  home 
from  school,  and  to  show  the  painter  off  to  them  as  a 
sort  of  family  property,  he  once  brought  the  young 
Whitwells.  He  seemed  on  perfect  terms  with  them 
now,  and  when  the  crowd  of  larger  children  hindered 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  37 

the  little  boy's  view  of  the  picture,  Jeff,  in  his  quality 
of  host,  lifted  him  under  his  arms  and  held  him  up  so 
that  he  could  look  as  long  as  he  liked. 

The  girl  seemed  ashamed  of  the  good  understand 
ing,  before  Westover.  Jeff  offered  to  make  a  place 
for  her  among  the  other  children  who  had  looked  long 
enough,  but  she  pulled  the  front  of  her  bonnet  across 
her  face  and  said  that  she  did  not  want  to  look,  and 
caught  her  brother  by  the  hand  and  ran  away  with 
him.  Westover  thought  this  charming  somehow ;  he 
liked  the  intense  shyness  which  the  child's  intense 
passion  had  hidden  from  him  before. 

Jeff  acted  as  host  to  the  neighbors  who  came  to 
inspect  the  picture,  and  they  all  ca'me,  within  a  circuit 
of  several  miles  around,  and  gave  him  their  opinions 
freely,  or  scantily,  according  to  their  several  tempera 
ments.  They  were  mainly  favorable,  though  there  was 
some  frank  criticism,  too,  spoken  over  the  painter's 
shoulder  as  openly  as  if  he  were  not  by.  There  was 
no  question  but  of  likeness;  all  finer  facts  were  far 
from  them ;  they  wished  to  see  how  good  a  portrait 
Westover  had  made,  and  some  of  them  consoled  him 
with  the  suggestion  that  the  likeness  would  come  out 
more  when  the  picture  got  dry. 

Whitwell  when  he  came  attempted  a  larger  view  of 
the  artist's  work,  but  apparently  more  out  of  kindness 
for  him  than  admiration  of  the  picture.  He  said  he 
presumed  you  could  not  always  get  a  thing  like  that 
just  right,  the  first  time,  and  that  you  had  to  keep 
trying  till  you  did  get  it ;  but  it  paid  in  the  end.  Jeff 
had  stolen  down  from  the  house  with  his  dog,  drawn 


38  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

by  the  fascination  which  one  we  have  injured  always 
has  for  us;  when  Whitwell  suddenly  turned  upon  him, 
and  asked,  jocularly,  "  What  do  you  think,  Jeff  ? "  the 
boy  could  only  kick  his  dog,  and  drive  it  home,  as  a 
means  of  hiding  his  feelings. 

He  brought  the  teacher  to  see  the  picture,  the  last 
Friday  before  the  painter  went  away.  She  was  a  cold- 
looking,  austere  girl,  pretty  enough,  with  eyes  that 
wandered  away  from  the  young  man,  although  Jeff 
used  all  his  arts  to  make  her  feel  at  home  in  his  pres 
ence.  She  pretended  to  have  merely  stopped  on  her 
way  up  to  see  Mrs.  Durgin,  and  she  did  not  venture 
any  comment  on  the  painting;  but  when  Westover 
asked  something  about  her  school,  she  answered  him 
promptly  enough,  as  to  the  number  and  ages  and  sexes 
of  the  school-children.  He  ventured  so  far  toward  a 
joke  with  her  as  to  ask  if  she  had  much  trouble  with 
such  a  tough  subject  as  Jeff,  and  she  said  he  could  be 
good  enough  when  he  had  a  mind.  If  he  could  get 
over  his  teasing,  she  said,  with  the  air  of  reading  him 
a  lecture,  she  would  not  have  anything  to  complain  of ; 
and  Jeff  looked  ashamed,  but  rather  of  the  praise  than 
the  blame.  His  humiliation  seemed  complete  when 
she  said,  finally,  "  He's  a  good  scholar." 

On  the  Tuesday  following,  Westover  meant  to  go. 
It  was  the  end  of  his  third  week,  and  it  had  brought 
him  into  September.  The  weather  since  he  had  begun 
to  paint  Lion's  Head  was  perfect  for  his  work;  but 
with  the  long  drought  it  had  grown  very  warm.  Many 
trees  now  had  flamed  into  crimson  on  the  hill  slopes ; 
the  yellowing  corn  in  the  fields  gave  out  a  thin,  dry 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  39 

sound  as  the  delicate  wind  stirred  the  blades  ;  but 
only  the  sounds  and  sights  were  autumnal.  The  heat 
was  oppressive  at  mid-day,  and  at  night  the  cold  had 
lost  its  edge.  There  was  no  dew,  and  Mrs.  Durgin 
sat  out  with  Westover  on  the  porch  while  he  smoked 
a  final  pipe  there.  She  had  come  to  join  him  for 
some  fixed  purpose  apparently,  and  she  called  to  her 
boy,  "  You  go  to  bed,  Jeff,"  as  if  she  wished  to  be 
alone  with  Westover;  the  men  folks  were  already  in 
bed ;  he  could  hear  them  cough,  now  and  then. 

"  Mr.  Westover,"  the  woman  began,  even  as  she 
swept  her  skirts  forward  before  she  sat  down,  "  I  want 
to  ask  you  whether  you  would  let  that  picture  of  yours 
go  on  part  board  ?  I'll  give  you  back  just  as  much 
as  you  say  of  this  money." 

He  looked  round  and  saw  that  she  had  in  the  hand 
dropped  in  her  lap  the  bills  he  had  given  her  after 
supper. 

"  Why,  I  couldn't,  very  well,  Mrs.  Durgin,"  he 
began. 

"  I  presume  you'll  think  I'm  foolish,"  she  pursued. 
"  But  I  do  want  that  picture ;  I  don't  know  when  I've 
ever  wanted  a  thing  more.  It's  just  like  Lion's  Head, 
the  way  I've  seen  it,  day  in  and  day  out,  every  summer 
since  I  come  here  thirty -five  years  ago ;  it's  beautiful !  " 

"Mrs.  Durgin,"  said  Westover,  "you  gratify  me 
more  than  I  can  tell  you.  I  wish — I  wish  I  could  let 
you  have  the  picture.  I — I  don't  know  what  to  say — " 

"  Why  don't  you  let  me  have  it  then  ?  If  we  ever 
had  to  go  away  from  here — if  anything  happened  to 
us — it's  the  one  thing  I  should  want  to  keep  and  take 


40  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

with  me.     There  !     That's  the  way  I  feel  about  it.     I 
can't  explain;  but  I  do  wish  you'd  let  me  have  it." 

Some  emotion  which  did  not  utter  itself  in  the 
desire  she  expressed  made  her  voice  shake  in  the 
words.  She  held  out  the  bank-notes  to  him,  and  they 
rustled  with  the  tremor  of  her  hand. 

"  Mrs.  Durgin,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  be  frank 
with  you,  and  you  mustn't  feel  hurt.  I  have  to  live  by 
my  work,  and  I  have  to  get  as  much  as  I  can  for  it — " 

"  That's  what  I  say.  I  don't  want  to  beat  you  down 
on  it.  I'll  give  you  whatever  you  think  is  right.  It's 
my  money,  and  my  husband  feels  just  as  I  do  about 
it,"  she  urged. 

"  You  don't  quite  understand,"  he  said  gently.  "  I 
expect  to  have  an  exhibition  of  my  pictures  in  Boston 
this  fall,  and  I  hope  to  get  two  or  three  hundred  dol 
lars  for  Lion's  Head." 

"  I've  been  a  proper  fool !  "  cried  the  woman,  and 
she  drew  in  a  long  breath. 

"  Oh,  don't  mind,"  he  begged.  "  It's  all  right.  I've 
never  hJd  any  offer  for  a  picture  that  I'd  rather  take 
than  yours.  I  know  the  thing  can't  be  altogether  bad 
after  what  you've  said.  And  I'll  tell  you  what!  I'll 
have  it  photographed  when  I  get  to  Boston,  and  I'll 
send  you  a  photograph  of  it." 

"  How  much  will  that  be  ? "  Mrs.  Dunlin  asked,  as 

o 

if  taught  caution  by  her  offer  for  the  painting. 

"  Nothing.  And  if  you'll  accept  it,  and  hang  it  up 
here  somewhere,  I  shall  be  very  glad." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin,  and  the  meekness, 
the  wounded  pride,  he  fancied  in  her,  touched  him. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  41 

He  did  not  know  at  first  how  to  break  the  silence 
which  she  let  follow  upon  her  words.  At  last  he  said  : 
"  You  spoke,  just  now,  about  taking  it  with  you.  Of 
course  you  don't  think  of  leaving  Lion's  Head  ! " 

She  did  not  answer  for  so  long  a  time  that  he 
thought  she  had  not  perhaps  heard  him,  or  heeded 
what  he  said,  but  she  answered,  finally :  "  We  did  think 
of  it.  The  day  you  come  we  had  about  made  up  our 
minds  to  leave/' 

"  Oh ! " 

"  But  I've  been  thinkin'  of  something  since  you've 
been  here  that  I  don't  know  but  you'll  say  is  about  as 
wild  as  wantin'  to  buy  a  three-hundred-dollar  picture 
with  a  week's  board."  She  gave  a  short  self-scornful 
laugh ;  but  it  was  a  laugh,  and  it  relieved  the  tension. 

"  It  may  not  be  worth  any  more,"  he  said,  glad  of 
the  relief. 

"  Oh,  I  guess  it  is,"  she  rejoined,  and  then  she 
waited  for  him  to  prompt  her. 

"  Well  ? " 

"  Well,  it's  this ;  and  I  wanted  to  ask  you,  anyway. 
You  think  there'd  be  any  chance  of  my  gettin'  sum 
mer  folks  to  come  here  and  board,  if  I  was  to  put  an 
advertisement  in  a  Boston  paper  ?  I  know  it's  a  lone 
some  place,  and  there  ain't  what  you  may  call  attrac 
tions.  But  the  folks  from  the  hotels,  sometimes,  when 
they  ride  over  in  a  stage  to  see  the  view,  praise  up  the 
scenery,  and  I  guess  it  is  sightly.  I  know  that  well 
enough;  and  I  ain't  afraid  but  what  I  can  do  for 
boarders  as  well  as  some,  if  not  better.  What  do  you 
think?" 


42  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  I  think  that's  a  capital  idea,  Mrs.  Durgin." 

"  It's  that,  or  go,"  she  said.  "  There  ain't  a  livin' 
for  us  on  the  farm  any  more,  and  we  got  to  do  some- 
thin'.  If  there  was  anything  else  I  could  do !  But 
I've  thought  it  out,  and  thought  it  out,  and  I  guess 
there  ain't  anything  I  can  do  but  take  boarders — if  I 
can  get  them." 

"  I  should  think  you'd  find  it  rather  pleasant  on 
some  accounts.  Your  boarders  would  be  company  for 
you,"  said  Westover. 

u  We're  company  enough  for  ourselves,"  said  Mrs. 
Durgin.  "  I  ain't  ever  been  lonesome  here,  from  the 
first  minute.  I  guess  I  had  company  enough  when  I 
was  a  girl  to  last  me — the  sort  that  hotel  folks  are.  I 
presume  Mr.  Whitwell  spoke  to  you  about  my  father  ?  " 

"Yes;  he  did,  Mrs.  Durgin." 

"  I  don't  presume  he  said  anything  that  wa'n't  true. 
It's  all  right.  But  I  'know  how 'my  mother  used  to 
slave,  and  how  I  used  to  slave  myself ;  and  I  always 
said  I'd  rather  do  anything  than  wait  on  boarders  ; 
and  now  I  guess  I  got  to  come  to  it.  The  sight  of 
summer  folks  makes  me  sick !  I  guess  I  could  'a'  had 
'em  long  ago,  if  I'd  wanted  to.  There  !  I've  said 
enough."  She  rose,  with  a  sudden  lift  of  her  power 
ful  frame,  and  stood  a  moment  as  if  expecting  West- 
over  to  say  something. 

He  said,  "  Well,  when  you've  made  your  mind  up, 
send  your  advertisement  to  me,  and  I'll  attend  to  it 
for  you." 

"  And  you  won't  forget  about  the  picture  ?  " 

"  No.     I  won't  forget  that." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  43 

The  next  morning  he  made  ready  for  an  early  start, 
and  in  his  preparations  he  had  the  zealous  and  even 
affectionate  help  of  Jeff  Durgin.  The  boy  seemed  to 
wish  him  to  carry  away  the  best  impression  of  him,  or 
at  least  to  make  him  forget  all  that  had  been  sinister 
or  unpleasant  in  his  behavior.  They  had  been  good 
comrades  since  the  first  evil  day  ;  they  had  become 
good  friends  even ;  and  Westover  was  touched  by  the 
boy's  devotion  at  parting.  He  helped  the  painter  get 
his  pack  together  in  good  shape,  and  he  took  pride  in 
strapping  it  on  Westover's  shoulders,  adjusting  and 
readjusting  it  with  care,  and  fastening  it  so  that  all 
should  be  safe  and  snug.  He  lingered  about  at  the 
risk  of  being  late  for  school,  as  if  to  see  the  last 
of  the  painter,  and  he  waved  his  hat  to  him  when 
Westover  looked  back  at  the  house  from  half  down 
the  lane.  Then  he  vanished,  and  AVestover  went 
slowly  on  till  he  reached  that  corner  of  the  orchard 
where  the  slanting  gravestones  of  the  family  burial- 
ground  showed  above  the  low  wall.  There,  suddenly, 
a  storm  burst  upon  him.  The  air  rained  apples,  that 
struck  him  on  the  head,  the  back,  the  side,  and  pelted 
in  violent  succession  on  his  knapsack  and  canvases, 
camp-stool  and  easel.  He  seemed  assailed  by  four  or 
live  skilful  marksmen,  whose  missiles  all  .told. 

When  he  could  lift  his  face  to  look  round,  he  heard 
a  shrill,  accusing  voice,  "  Oh,  Jeff  Durgin  !  "  and  he 
saw  another  storm  of  apples  fly  through  the  air  tow 
ard  the  little  Whitwell  girl,  who  dodged  and  ran  along 
the  road  below,  and  escaped  in  the  direction  of  the 
school-house.  Then  the  boy's  face  showed  itself  over 


44  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

the  top  of  one  of  the  gravestones,  all  agrin  with  joy. 
He  waited  and  watched  AVestover  keep  slowly  on,  as 
if  nothing  had  happened,  and  presently  he  let  some 
apples  fall  from  his  hands,  and  walked  slowly  back  to 
the  house,  with  his  dog  at  his  heels. 

When  Westover  reached  the  level  of  the  road,  and 
the  shelter  of  the  woods  near  Whitwell's  house,  he 
unstrapped  his  load  to  see  how  much  harm  had  been 
done  to  his  picture.  He  found  it  unhurt,  and  before 
he  had  got  the  burden  back  again,  he  saw  Jeff  Durgin 
leaping  along  the  road  toward  the  school-house,  whirl 
ing  his  satchel  of  books  about  his  head,  and  shouting 
gayly  to  the  girl,  now  hidden  by  the  bushes  at  the 
other  end  of  the  lane,  "  Cynthy !  Oh,  Cynthy  !  Wait 
for  me !  I  want  to  tell  you  something." 


IX. 

WESTOVER  received  next  spring  the  copy  for  an 
advertisement  from  Mrs.  Durgin,  which  she  asked  to 
have  him  put  in  some  paper  for  her.  She  said  that 
her  son  Jackson  had  written  it  out,  and  Westover 
found  it  so  well  written  that  he  had  scarcely  to  change 
the  wording.  It  offered  the  best  of  farm-board,  with 
plenty  of  milk  and  eggs,  berries  and  fruit,  for  five 
dollars  a  week  at  Lion's  Head  Farm,  and  it  claimed  for 
the  farm  the  merit  of  the  finest  view  of  the  celebrated 
Lion's  Head  Mountain.  It  was  signed,  as  her  letter 
was  signed,  "  Mrs.  J.  M.  Durgin,"  with  her  post-office 
address,  and  it  gave  Westover  as  a  reference. 

The  letter  was  in  the  same  handwriting  as  the  adver 
tisement,  which  he  took  to  be  that  of  Jackson  Durgin. 
It  inclosed  a  dollar  note  to  pay  for  three  insertions  of 
the  advertisement  in  the  Evening  Transcript,  and  it 
ended,  almost  casually :  "  I  do  not  know  as  you  have 
heard  that  my  husband,  James  Monroe  Durgin,  passed 
to  spirit  life  this  spring.  My  son  will  help  me  to  run 
the  house." 

This  death  could  not  move  Westover  more  than  it 


46  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

had  apparently  moved  the  widow.  During  the  three 
weeks  he  had  passed  under  his  roof,  he  had  scarcely 
exchanged  three  words  with  James  Monroe  Durgin, 
who  remained  to  him  an  impression  of  large,  round, 
dull  blue  eyes,  a  stubbly  upper  lip,  and  cheeks  and 
chin  tagged  with  coarse  hay-colored  beard.  The  im 
pression  was  so  largely  the  impression  that  he  had 
kept  of  the  dull  blue  eyes  and  the  gaunt,  slanted  figure 
of  Andrew  Jackson  Durgin  that  he  could  not  be  very 
distinct  in  his  sense  of  which  was  now  the  presence, 
and  which  the  absence.  He  remembered  with  an  effort 
that  the  son's  beard  was  straw-colored,  but  he  had  to 
make  no  effort  to  recall  the  robust  effect  of  Mrs.  Dur 
gin  and  her  youngest  son.  He  wondered  now,  as  he 
had  often  wondered  before,  whether  she  knew  of  the 
final  violence  which  had  avenged  the  boy  for  the  pro 
longed  strain  of  repression  Jeff  had  inflicted  upon  him 
self  during  Westover's  stay  at  the  farm.  After  several 
impulses  to  go  back  and  beat  him,  to  follow  him  to 
school  and  expose  him  to  the  teacher,  to  write  to  his 
mother  and  tell  her  of  his  misbehavior,  Westover  had 
decided  to  do  nothing.  As  he  had  come  off  unhurt  in 
person  and  property,  he  could  afford  to  be  more  gen 
erously  amused  than  if  he  had  suffered  damage  in 
either.  The  more  he  thought  of  the  incident,  the  more 
he  was  disposed  to  be  lenient  with  the  boy,  whom  he 
was  aware  of  having  baffled  and  subdued  by  his  supe 
rior  wit  and  virtue  in  perhaps  intolerable  measure.  He 
could  not  quite  make  out  that  it  was  an  act  of  bad 
faith ;  there  was  no  reason  to  think  that  the  good-nat 
ured  things  the  fellow  had  done,  the  constant  little 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  47 

offices  of  zeal  and  friendliness,  were  less  sincere  than 
this  violent  outbreak. 

The  letter  from  Lion's  Head  Farm  brought  back 
his  three  weeks  there  very  vividly,  and  made  Westover 
wish  he  was  going  there  for  the  summer.  But  he  was 
going  over  to  France  for  an  indefinite  period  of  work 
in  the  only  air  where  he  believed  modern  men  were 
doing  good  things  in  the  right  way.  He  had  had  a 
sale,  in  the  winter,  and  he  had  sold  pictures  enough 
to  provide  the  means  for  this  sojourn  abroad ;  though 
his  Lion's  Head  Mountain  had  not  brought  the  two 
hundred  and  fifty  or  three  hundred  dollars  he  had 
hoped  for.  It  brought  only  a  hundred  and  sixty  ;  but 
the  time  had  almost  come  already  when  Westover 
thought  it  brought  too  much.  Now,  the  letter  from 
Mrs.  Durgin  reminded  him  that  he  had  never  sent  her 
the  photograph  of  the  picture  which  he  had  promised 
her.  He  encased  the  photograph  at  once,  and  wrote 
to  her  with  many  avowals  of  contrition  for  his  neglect, 
and  strong  regret  that  he  was  not  soon  to  see  the 
original  of  the  painting  again.  He  paid  a  decent  rev 
erence  to  the  bereavement  she  had  suffered,  and  he 
sent  his  regards  to  all,  especially  his  comrade  Jeff, 
whom  he  advised  to  keep  out  of  the  apple-orchard. 

Five  years  later  Westover  came  home  in  the  first 
week  of  a  gasping  August,  whose  hot  breath  thickened 
round  the  Cunarder  before  she  got  half-way  up  the 
harbor.  He  waited  only  to  see  his  pictures  through 
the  custom-house,  and  then  he  left  for  the  mountains. 
The  mountains  meant  Lion's  Head  for  him,  and  eight 
hours  after  he  was  dismounting  from  the  train  at  a 


48  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

station  on  the  road  which  had  been  pushed  through 
on  a  new  line  within  four  miles  of  the  farm.  It  was 
called  Lion's  Head  House,  now,  as  he  read  on  the  side 
of  the  mountain-wagon  which  he  saw  waiting  at  the 
platform,  and  he  knew  at  a  glance  that  it  was  Jeff 
Durgin  who  was  coming  forward  to  meet  him  and  take 
his  hand-bag. 

The  boy  had  been  the  prophecy  of  the  man  in  even 
a  disappointing  degree.  Westover  had  fancied  him 
growing  up  to  the  height  of  his  father  and  brother,  but 
Jeff  Durgin's  stalwart  frame  was  notable  for  strength 
rather  than  height.  He  could  not  have  been  taller 
than  his  mother,  whose  stature  was  above  the  stand 
ard  of  her  sex,  but  he  was  massive  without  being  bulky. 
His  chest  was  deep,  his  square  shoulders  broad,  his 
powerful  legs  bore  him  with  a  backward  bulge  of  the 
calves  that  showed  through  his  shapely  trousers ;  he 
caught  up  the  trunks  and  threw  them  into  the  bag 
gage  wagon  with  a  swelling  of  the  muscles  on  his  short 
thick  arms  which  pulled  his  coat  sleeves  from  his 
heavy  wrists  and  broad,  short  hands. 

He  had  given  one  of  these  to  Westover  to  shake 
when  they  met,  but  with  something  conditional  in  his 
welcome,  and  with  a  look  which  was  not  so  much  fur 
tive  as  latent.  The  thatch  of  yellow  hair  he  used  to 
wear  was  now  cropped  close  to  his  skull,  which  was  a 
sort  of  dun-color ;  and  it  had  some  drops  of  sweat 
along  the  lighter  edge  where  his  hat  had  shaded  his 
forehead.  He  put  his  hat  on  the  seat  between  him 
self  and  Westover,  and  drove  away  from  the  station 
bareheaded,  to  cool  himself  after  his  bout  with  the 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  49 

baggage,  which  was  following  more  slowly  in  its  wag 
on.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  it,  and  there  were  half 
a  dozen  people,  women  of  course,  going  to  Lion's  Head 
House.  Westover  climbed  to  the  place  beside  Jeff  to 
let  them  have  the  other  two  seats  to  themselves,  and 
to  have  a  chance  of  talking ;  but  the  ladies  had  to  be 
quieted  in  their  several  anxieties  concerning  their  bag 
gage,  and  the  letters  and  telegrams  they  had  sent 
about  their  rooms,  before  they  settled  down  to  an  ex 
change  of  apprehensions  among  themselves,  and  left 
Jeff  Durgin  free  to  listen  to  Westover. 

"  I  don't  know  but  /  ought  to  have  telegraphed  you 
that  I  was  coming,"  Westover  said,  "  but  I  couldn't 
realize  that  you  were  doing  things  on  the  hotel  scale. 
Perhaps  you  won't  have  room  for  me  ? " 

"Guess  we  can  put  you  up,"  said  Jeff. 

"  No  chance  of  getting  iny  old  room,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder.  If  there's  any  one  in  it,  I 
guess  mother  could  change  'em." 

"  Is  that  so  ? "  asked  Westover,  with  a  liking  for 
being  liked,  which  his  tone*expressed.  "  How  is  your 
mother  ? " 

Jeff  seemed  to  think  a  moment  before  he  answered : 

"  Just  exactly  the  same  !  " 

"A  little  older?" 

"  Not  as  I  can  see." 

"  Does  she  hate  keeping  a  hotel  as  badly  as  she 
expected?" 

"  That's  what  she  says,"  answered  Jeff,  with  a  twin 
kle.  All  the  time,  while  he  was  talking  with  West- 
over,  he  was  breaking  out  to  his  horses,  which  he 
D 


50  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

governed  with  his  voice,  trotting  them  up  hill  and 
down,  and  walking  them  on  the  short,  infrequent  lev 
els,  in  the  mountain  fashion. 

Westover  almost  feared  to  ask,  "  And  how  is  Jack 
son?" 

"  First  rate.  That  is,  for  him.  He's  as  well  as  ever 
he  was,  I  guess,  and  he  don't  appear  a  day  older. 
You've  changed  some,"  said  Jeff,  with  a  look  round 
at  Westover. 

"Yes;  I'm  twenty -nine,  now,  and  I  wear  a  heavier 
beard."  Westover  noticed  that  Jeff  was  clean  shaved 
of  any  sign  of  an  approaching  beard,  and  artistically 
he  rejoiced  in  the  fellow's  young,  manly  beauty*  which 
was  very  regular  and  sculpturesque.  "  You're  about 
eighteen  ? " 

"  Nearer  nineteen." 

"  Is  Jackson  as  much  interested  in  the  other  world 
as  he  used  to  be  ? " 

"  Spirits  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  guess  he  keeps  it  u£  with  Mr.  Whitwcll.  He 
don't  say  much  about  it  at  home.  He  keeps  all  the 
books,  and  helps  mother  run  the  house.  She  couldn't 
very  well  get  along  without  him." 

"  And  where  do  you  come  in  ? " 

"  Well,  I  look  after  the  transportation,"  said  Jeff, 
with  a  nod  toward  his  horses.  "  When  I'm  at  home, 
that  is.  I've  been  at  the  Academy  in  Lovewell  the 
last  three  winters,  and  that  means  a  good  piece  of  the 
summer  too,  first  and  last.  But  I  guess  I'll  let  mother 
talk  to  you  about  that." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  51 

"  All  right,"  said  Westover.  "  What  I  don't  know 
about  education  isn't  worth  knowing." 

Jeff  laughed,  and  said  to  the  off  horse,  which  seemed 
to  know  that  he  was  meant,  "  Get  up,  there !  " 

"  And  Cynthia  ?  Is  Cynthia  at  home  ?  "  Westover 
asked. 

"  Yes.  They're  all  down  in  the  little  wood-colored 
house,  yet.  Cynthia  teaches  winters,  and  summers  she 
helps  mother.  She  has  charge  of  the  dining-room." 

"Does  Franky  cry  as  much  aa  ever?" 

"  No.  Frank's  a  fine  boy.  He's  in  the  house  too. 
Kind  of  bell-boy." 

"  And  you  haven't  worked  Mr.  Whitwell  in,  any 
where  ? " 

"  Well,  he  talks  to  the  ladies,  and  takes  parties  of 
'em  mountain-climbing.  I  guess  we  couldn't  get  along 
without  Mr.  Whitwell.  He  talks  religion  to  'em." 
He  cast  a  mocking  glance  at  WTestover  over  his  shoul 
der.  "  Women  seem  to  like  religion,  whether  they 
belong  to  church  or  not." 

Westover  laughed,  and  asked,  "  And  Fox  ?  How's 
Fox?" 

"  Well,"  said  Jeff,  "  we  had  to  give  Fox  away.  He 
was  always  cross  with  the  boarders'  children.  My 
brother  was  on  from  Colorado,  and  he  took  Fox  back 
with  him." 

"  I  didn't  suppose,"  said  Westover,  "  that  I  should 
have  been  sorry  to  miss  Fox.  But  I  guess  I  shall  be." 

Jeff  seemed  to  enjoy  the  implication  of  his  words. 
"He  wasn't  a  bad  dog.  He  was  stupid." 

When  they  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  lane,  mounting 


52  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

to  the  farm,  Westover  saw  what  changes  had  been 
made  in  the  house.  There  were  large  additions,  taste 
less  and  characterless,  but  giving  the  rooms  that  were 
needed.  There  was  a  vulgar  modernity  in  the  new 
parts,  expressed  with  a  final  intensity  in  the  four-light 
windows,  which  arc  esteemed  the  last  word  of  domes 
tic  architecture  in  the  country.  Jeff  said  nothing  as 
they  approached  the  house,  but  Westover  said,  "  Well, 
you've  certainly  prospered.  You're  quite  magnificent." 

They  reached  the  old  level  in  front  of  the  house, 
artificially  widened  out  of  his  remembrance,  with  a 
white  flag-pole  planted  at  its  edge,  and  he  looked  up 
at  the  front  of  the  house,  which  was  unchanged,  ex 
cept  that  it  had  been  built  a  story  higher  back  of  the 
old  front,  and  discovered  the  window  of  his  old  room. 
He  could  hardly  wait  to  get  his  greetings  over  with 
Mrs.  Durgin  and  Jackson,  who  both  showed  a  decorous 
pleasure  and  surprise  at  his  coming,  before  he  asked, 
"  And  could  you  let  me  have  my  own  room,  Mrs.  Dur- 
gin?" 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  said.  "  If  you  don't  want  some 
thing  a  little  nicer." 

"I  don't  believe  you've  got  anything  nicer,"  West- 
over  said. 

"  All  right,  if  you  think  so,"  she  retorted.  "  You 
can  have  the  old  room,  anyway." 


WESTOVER  could  not  have  said  he  felt  very  much 
at  home  on  his  first  sojourn  at  the  farm,  or  that  he 
had  cared  greatly  for  the  Durgins.  But  now  he  felt 
very  much  at  home,  and  as  if  he  were  in  the  hands  of 
friends. 

It  was  toward  the  close  of  the  afternoon  that  he 
arrived,  and  he  went  in  promptly  to  the  meal  that  was 
served  shortly  after.  He  found  that  the  farm-house 
had  not  evolved  so  far  in  the  direction  of  a  hotel  as 
to  have  reached  the  stage  of  a  late  dinner.  It  was  tea 
that  he  sat  down  to,  but  when  he  asked  if  there  were 
not  something  hot,  after  listening  to  a  catalogue  of  the 
cold  meats,  the  spectacled  waitress  behind  his  chair 
demanded,  with  the  air  of  putting  him  on  his  honor, 
"  You  among  those  that  came  this  afternoon,? " 

Westover  claimed  to  be  of  the  new  arrivals. 

"Well,  then,  you  can  have  steak  or  chops,  and 
baked  potatoes." 

He  found  the  steak  excellent,  though  succinct,  and 
he  looked  round  in  the  distinction  it  conferred  upon 
him,  on  the  older  guests,  who  were  served  with  cold 
ham,  tongue,  and  corned  beef.  He  had  expected  to 


54:  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

be  appointed  his  place  by  Cynthia  Whitwell,  but  Jeff 
came  to  the  dining-room  with  him,  and  showed  him 
to  the  table  he  occupied,  with  an  effect  of  doing  him 
special  credit. 

From  his  impressions  of  the  berries,  the  cream,  the 
toast,  and  the  tea,  as  well  as  the  steak,  he  decided 
that  on  the  gastronomic  side  there  could  be  no  question 
but  the  Durgins  knew  how  to  keep  a  hotel ;  and  his 
further  acquaintance  with  the  house  and  its  appoint 
ments  confirmed  him  in  his  belief.  All  was  very 
simple,  but  sufficient;  and  no  guest  could  have  truth 
fully  claimed  that  he  was  stinted  in  towels,  in  water, 
in  lamp-light,  in  the  quantity  or  quality  of  bedding,  in 
hooks  for  clothes,  or  wardrobe  or  bureau  room.  West- 
over  made  Mrs.  Durgin  his  sincere  compliments  on  her 
success  as  they  sat  in  the  old  parlor,  which  she  had 
kept  for  herself  much  in  its  former  state,  and  she 
accepted  them  with  simple  satisfaction. 

"But  I  don't  know  as  I  should  ever  had  the  cour 
age  to  try  it,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you  happening  along 
just  when  you  did,"  she  said. 

"  Then  I'm  the  founder  of  your  fortunes  ? " 

"  If  you  want  to  call  them  fortunes.  We  don't 
complain.  It's  been  a  fight,  but  I  guess  we've  got  the 
best  of  it.  The  house  is  full,  and  we're  turnin'  folks 
away.  I  guess  they  can't  say  that  at  the  big  hotels 
they  used  to  drive  over  from  to  see  Lion's  Head  at 
the  farm."  She  gave  a  low,  comfortable  chuckle,  and 
told  Westover  of  the  struggle  they  had  made.  It  was 
an  interesting  story  and  pathetic,  like  all  stories  of 
human  endeavor :  the  efforts  of  the  most  selfish  ambi- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  55 

tion  have  something  of  this  interest ;  and  the  struggle 
of  the  Durgins  had  the  grace  of  the  wish  to  keep  their 
home. 

"  And  is  Jeff  as  well  satisfied  as  the  rest  ? "  West- 
over  asked,  after  other  talk  and  comment  on  the  facts. 

"  Too  much  so,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin.  "  I  should  like 
to  talk  with  you  about  Jeff,  Mr.  Westover ;  you  and 
him  was  always  such  friends." 

"  Yes,"  said  Westover;  "  I  shall  be  glad  if  I  can  be 
of  use  to  you." 

"  Why,  it's  just  this.  I  don't  see  why  Jeff  shouldn't 
do  something  besides  keep  a  hotel." 

Wcstover's  eyes  wandered  to  the  photograph  of  his 
painting  of  Lion's  Head  which  hung  over  the  mantel 
piece,  in  what  he  felt  to  be  the  place  of  the  greatest 
honor  in  the  whole  house,  and  a  sudden  fear  came 
upon  him  that  perhaps  Jeff  had  developed  an  artistic 
talent  in  the  belief  of  his  family.  But  he  waited  si 
lently  to  hear. 

"  We  did  think  that  before  we  got  through  the  im 
provements  last  spring  a  year  ago  we  should  have  to 
get  the  savings-bank  to  put  a  mortgage  on  the  place  ; 
but  we  had  just  enough  to  start  the  season  with,  and 
we  thought  we  would  try  to  pull  through.  We  had  a 
splendid  season,  and  made  money,  and  this  year  we're 
doin'  so  well  that  I  ain't  afraid  for  the  future  any 
more,  and  I  want  to  give  Jeff  a  chance  in  the  world. 
I  want  he  should  go  to  college." 

Westover  felt  all  the  boldness  of  the  aspiration,  but 
it  was  at  least  not  in  the  direction  of  art.  "  Wouldn't 
you  rather  miss  him  in  the  management  ? " 


56  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  We  should,  some.  But  he  would  be  here  the  best 
part  of  the  summer,  in  his  vacations,  and  Jackson  and 
I  are  full  able  to  run  the  house  without  him." 

"Jackson  seems  very  well,"  said  Westover,  eva 
sively. 

"  He's  better.  He's  only  thirty-four  years  old.  His 
father  lived  to  be  sixty,  and  he  had  the  same  kind. 
Jeff  tell  you  he  had  been  at  Lovewell  Academy? " 

"Yes;  he  did." 

"  He  clone  well,  there.  All  his  teachers  that  he 
ever  had,"  Mrs.  Durgin  went  on,  with  the  mother-pride 
that  soon  makes  itself  tiresome  to  the  listener,  "  said 
Jeff  done  well  at  school  when  he  had  a  mind  to,  and 
at  the  Academy  he  studied  real  hard.  I  guess,"  said 
Mrs.  Durgin,  with  her  chuckle,  "  that  he  thought  that 
was  goin'  to  be  the  end  of  it.  One  thing,  he  had  to 
keep  up  with  Cynthy,  and  that  put  him  on  his  pride. 
You  seen  Cynthy  yet  ?  " 

"  No.  Jeff  told  me  she  was  in  charge  of  the  dining- 
room.'" 

"  I  guess  I'm  in  charge  of  the  whole  house,"  said 
Mrs.  Durgin.  "Cynthy's  the  housekeeper,  though. 
She's  a  fine  girl,  and  a  smart  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin, 
with  a  visible  relenting  from  some  grudge,  "  and  she'll 
do  well  wherever  you  put  her.  She  went  to  the  Acad 
emy  the  first  two  winters  Jeff  did.  We've  about 
scooped  in  the  whole  Whitwell  family.  Franky's  here, 
and  his  father's — well,  his  father's  kind  of  philosopher 
to  the  lady  boarders."  Mrs.  Durgin  laughed,  and 
Westover  laughed  with  her.  "  Yesr  I  want  Jeff  should 
go  to  college,  and  I  want  he  should  be  a  lawyer." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  57 

Westover  did  not  find  that  lie  had  anything  useful 
to  say  to  this;  so  he  said,  "  I've  no  doubt  it's  better 
than  being  a  painter." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure ;  three  hundred  dollars  for  a  little 
thing  like  that."  She  indicated  the  photograph  of 
his  Lion's  Head,  and  she  was  evidently  so  proud  of  it 
that  he  reserved  for  the  moment  the  truth  as  to  the 
price  he  had  got  for  the  painting.  "  I  was  surprised 
when  you  sent  me  a  photograph  full  as  big.  I  don't 
let  every  one  in  here,  but  a  good  many  of  the  ladies 
are  artists  themselves — amatures,  I  guess, — and  first 
and  last  they  all  want  to  see  it.  I  guess  they'll  all 
want  to  see  you,  Mr.  Westover.  They'll  be  wild,  as 
they  call  it,  when  they  know  you're  in  the  house.  Yes, 
I  mean  Jeff  shall  go  to  college." 

"  Bowdoin,  or — Dartmouth  ?  "  Westover  suggested. 

"  Well,  I  guess  you'll  think  I'm  about  as  forth-put 
ting  as  I  was  when  I  wanted  you  to  give  me  a  three- 
hundred-dollar  picture  for  a  week's  board." 

"I  only  got  a  hundred  and  sixty,  Mrs.  Durgin," 
said  Westover  conscientiously. 

"Well,  it's  a  shame.  Any  rate,  three  hundred's 
the  price  to  all  my  boarders.  My,  if  I've  told  that 
story  once,  I  guess  I've  told  it  fifty  times  !  " 

Mrs.  Durgin  laughed  at  herself  jollily,  and  Westover 
noted  how  prosperity  had  changed  her.  It  had  freed 
her  tongue,  it  had  brightened  her  humor,  it  had  cheered 
her  heart ;  she  had  put  on  flesh,  and  her  stalwart  frame 
was  now  a  far  greater  bulk  than  he  remembered. 

"  Well,  there  !  "  she  said.  "  The  long  and  the  short 
of  it  is,  I  want  Jeff  should  go  to  Harvard." 


58  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

He  commanded  himself  to  say,  "  I  don't  see  why  he 
shouldn't." 

Mrs.  Durgin  called  out,  "  Come  in,  Jackson,"  and 
Westover  looked  round  and  saw  the  elder  son  like  a 
gaunt  shadow  in  the  doorway.  "  I've  just  got  where  I've 
told  Mr.  Westover  where  I  want  Jeff  should  go.  It 
don't  seem  to  have  ca'd  him  off  his  feet,  any,  either." 

"  I  presume,"  said  Jackson,  coming  in,  and  sitting 
lankly  down  in  the  feather-cushioned  rocking-chair 
which  his  mother  pushed  towards  him  with  her  foot, 
"  that  the  expense  would  be  more  at  Harvard  than  it 
would  at  the  other  colleges." 

"  If  you  want  the  best,  you  got  to  pay  for  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Durgin. 

"  I  suppose  it  would  cost  more,"  Westover  answered 
Jackson's  conjecture.  "  I  really  don't  know  much 
about  it.  One  hears  tremendous  stories  at  Boston  of 
the  rate  of  living  among  the  swell  students  in  Cam 
bridge.  People  talk  of  five  thousand  a  year,  and  that 
sort  of  thing."  Mrs.  Durgin  shut  her  lips,  after  catch 
ing  her  breath.  "  But  I  fancy  that  it's  largely  talk. 
I  have  a  friend  whose  son  went  through  Harvard  for 
a  thousand  a  year,  and  I  know  that  many  fellows  do 
it  for  much  less." 

"  I  guess  we  can  manage  to  let  Jeff  have  a  thousand 
a  year,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin,  proudly,  "  and  not  scrimp 
very  much,  either." 

She  looked  at  her  elder  son,  who  said :  "  I  don't  be 
lieve  but  what  we  could.  It's  more  of  a  question  with 
me  what  sort  of  influence  Jeff  would  come  under  there. 
I  think  he's  pretty  much  spoilt  here  !  " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  59 

"  Now,  Jackson  !  "  said  his  mother. 

"  I've  heard,"  said  Westover,  "  that  Harvard  takes 
the  nonsense  out  of  a  man.  I  can't  enter  into  what 
you  say,  and  it  isn't  my  affair;  but  in  regard  to  influ 
ence  at  Harvard,  it  depends  upon  the  set  Jeff  is  thrown 
with,  or  throws  himself  with.  So,  at  least,  I  infer 
from  what  I've  heard  my  friend  say  of  his  son  there. 
There  are  hard-working  sets,  loafing  sets,  and  fast 
sets ;  and  I  suppose  it  isn't  different  at  Harvard  in 
such  matters  from  other  colleges." 

Mrs.  Durgin  looked  a  little  grave.  "  Of  course," 
she  said,  "  we  don't  know  anybody  at  Cambridge,  ex 
cept  some  ladies  that  boarded  with  us  one  summer,  and 
I  shouldn't  want  to  ask  any  favor  of  them.  The  trou 
ble  would  be  to  get  Jeff  started  right." 

Westover  surmised  a  good  many  things,  but  in  the 
absence  of  any  confidences  from  the  Durgins  he  could 
not  tell  just  how  much  Jackson  meant  in  saying  that 
Jeff  was  pretty  much  spoiled,  or  how  little.  At  first, 
from  Mrs.  Durgin's  prompt  protest,  he  fancied  that 
Jackson  meant  that  the  boy  had  been  over-indulged 
by  his  mother.  "  I  understand,"  he  said,  in  default 
of  something  else  to  say,  "  that  the  requirements  at 
Harvard  are  pretty  severe." 

"  He's  passed  his  preliminary  examinations,"  said 
Jackson,  with  a  touch  of  hauteur,  "  and  I  guess  he 
can  enter  this  fall,  if  we  should  so  decide.  He'll  have 
some  conditions,  prob'ly,  but  none  but  what  he  can 
work  off,  I  guess." 

"  Then,  if  you  wish  to  have  him  go  to  college,  by 
all  means  let  him  go  to  Harvard,  I  should  say.  It's 


60  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

our  great  university,  and  our  oldest.  I'm  not  a  col 
lege  man  myself;  but  if  I  were,  I  should  wish  to  have 
been  a  Harvard  man.  If  Jeff  has  any  nonsense  in 
him,  it  will  take  it  out;  and  I  don't  believe  there's 
anything  in  Harvard,  as  Harvard,  to  make  him  worse." 
"  That's  what  we  both  think,"  said  Jackson. 
"  I've  heard,"  Westover  continued,  and  he  rose  and 
stood  while  he  spoke,  "  that  Harvard's  like  the  world. 
A  man  gets  on  there  on  the  same  terms  that  he  gets 
on  in  the  world.  He  has  to  be  a  man,  and  he'd  bet 
ter  be  a  gentleman." 

Mrs.  Durgin  still  looked  serious.  "  Have  you  come 
back  to  Boston  for  good,  now  ?  Do  you  expect  to  be 
there  right  along  ? " 

"  I've  taken  a  studio  there.  Yes,  I  expect  to  be  in 
Boston,  now.  I've  taken  to  teaching,  and  I  fancy  I 
can  make  a  living.  If  Jeff  comes  to  Cambridge,  and 
I  can  be  of  any  use — " 

"  We  should  be  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you,"  said 
his  mother,  with  an  air  of  great  relief. 

"  Not  at  all.  I  shall  be  very  glad.  Your  mountain 
air  is  drugging  me,  Mrs.  Durgin.  I  shall  have  to  say 
good-night,  or  I  shall  tumble  asleep  before  I  get  up 
stairs.  Oh,  I  can  find  the  way,  I  guess ;  this  part  of 
the  house  seems  the  same."  He  got  away  from  them, 
and  with  the  lamp  that  Jackson  gave  him  found  his 
way  to  his  room.  A  few  moments  later  some  one 
knocked  at  his  door,  and  a  boy  stood  there  with  a 
pitcher.  "  Some  ice-water,  Mr.  Westover  ?  " 

"  Why,  is  that  you,  Franky  ?  I'm  glad  to  see  you 
again.  How  are  you  ?  " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  61 

"  I'm  pretty  well,"  said  the  boy,  shyly.  He  was  a 
very  handsome  little  fellow  of  distinctly  dignified  pres 
ence,  and  Westover  was  aware  at  once  that  here  was 
not  a  subject  for  patronage.  "Is  there  anything  else 
you  want,  Mr.  Westover?  Matches,  or  soap,  or  any 
thing?"  He  put  the  pitcher  down  and  gave  a  keen 
glance  round  the  room. 

"No,  everything  seems  to  be  here,  Frank,"  said 
Westover. 

"  Well,  good-night,"  said  the  boy,  and  he  slipped 
out,  quietly  closing  the  door  after  him. 

Westover  pushed  up  his  window,  and  looked  at 
Lion's  Head  in  the  moonlight.  It  slumbered  as  if 
with  the  sleep  of  centuries,  austere,  august.  The  moon- 
rays  seemed  to  break  and  splinter  on  the  outline  of 
the  lion-shape,  and  left  all  the  mighty  mass  black  be 
low. 

In  the  old  porch  under  his  window  Westover  heard 
whispering.  Then  "  You  behave  yourself,  Jeff  Dur- 
gin  !  "  came  in  a  voice  which  could  be  no  other  than 
Cynthia  Whitwell's,  and  Jeff  Durgin's  laugh  followed. 

He  saw  the  girl  in  the  morning.  She  met  him  at 
the  door  of  the  dining-room,  and  he  easily  found  in 
her  shy,  proud  manner,  and  her  pure,  cold  beauty,  the 
temperament  and  physiognomy  of  the  child  he  remem 
bered.  She  was  tall  and  slim,  and  she  held  herself 
straight  without  stiffness;  her  face  was  fine,  with  a 
straight  nose,  and  a  decided  chin,  and  a  mouth  of  the 
same  sweetness  which  looked  from  her  still  gray  eyes ; 
her  hair,  of  the  average  brown,  had  a  rough  effect  of 
being  quickly  tossed  into  form,  which  pleased  him  ;  as 


62  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

she  slipped  down  the  room  before  him  to  place  him 
at  table  he  saw  that  she  was,  as  it  were,  involuntarily, 
unwillingly  graceful.  She  made  him  think  of  a  wild 
sweetbrier,  of  a  hermit-thrush,  but  if  there  were  this 
sort  of  poetic  suggestion  in  Cynthia's  looks,  her  acts 
were  of  plain  and  honest  prose,  such  as  giving  West- 
over  the  pleasantest  place  and  the  most  intelligent 
waitress  in  the  room. 

He  would  have  liked  to  keep  her  in  talk  a  moment, 
but  she  made  businesslike  dispatch  of  all  his  allusions 
to  the  past,  and  got  herself  quickly  away.  Afterwards 
she  came  back  to  him,  with  the  effect  of  having  forced 
herself  to  come,  and  the  color  deepened  in  her  cheeks 
while  she  stayed. 

She  seemed  glad  of  his  being  there,  but  helpless 
against  the  instincts  or  traditions  that  forbade  her  to 
show  her  pleasure  in  his  presence.  Her  reticence  be 
came  almost  snubbing  in  its  strictness  when  he  asked 
her  about  her  school-teaching  in  the  winter ;  but  he 
found  that  she  taught  at  the  little  school-house  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  and  lived  at  home  with  her  father. 

"  And  have  you  any  bad  boys  that  frighten  little 
girls,  in  your  school  ? "  he  asked,  jocosely. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  have,"  she  said,  with  a  con 
sciousness  that  flamed  into  her  cheeks. 

"  Perhaps  the  boys  have  reformed,"  Westover  sug 
gested. 

"I  presume,"  she  said,  stiffly,  "that  there's  room 
for  improvement  in  every  one,"  and  then,  as  if  she 
were  afraid  he  might  take  this  personally,  she  looked 
unhappy,  and  tried  to  speak  of  other  things.  She 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  63 

asked  him  if  he  did  not  see  a  great  many  changes  at 
Lion's  Head ;  he  answered  gravely  that  he  wished  he 
could  have  found  it  just  as  he  left  it,  and  then  she 
must  have  thought  she  had  gone  wrong  again,  for  she 
left  him  in  an  embarrassment  that  was  pathetic,  but 
which  was  charming. 


XL 

AFTER  breakfast  Westover  walked  out  and  saw 
Whitwell  standing  on  the  grass  in  front  of  the  house, 
beside  the  flag-staff.  He  suffered  Westover  to  make 
the  first  advances  towards  the  renewal  of  their  ac 
quaintance,  but  when  he  was  sure  of  his  friendly  inten 
tion  he  responded  with  a  cordial  openness  which  the 
painter  had  fancied  wanting  in  his  children.  Whitwell 
had  not  changed  much.  The  most  noticeable  difference 
was  the  compact  phalanx  of  new  teeth  which  had  re 
placed  the  staggering  veterans  of  former  days,  and 
which  displayed  themselves  in  his  smile  of  relenting. 
There  was  some  novelty  of  effect  also  in  an  arrange 
ment  of  things  in  his  hat-band.  At  first  Westover 
thought  they  were  fish-hooks  and  artificial  flies,  such 
as  the  guides  wear  in  the  Adirondacks  to  advertise 
their  calling  about  the  hotel  offices  and  the  piazzas. 
But  another  glance  showed  him  that  they  were  sprays 
and  wild  flowers  of  various  sorts,  with  gay  mosses  and 
fungi  and  some  stems  of  Indian-pipe. 

Whitwell  seemed  pleased  that  these  things  should 
have  caught  Westover's  eye.  He  said,  almost  imme- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  65 

diately,  "  Lookin'  at  my  almanac  ?  This  is  one  of  our 
field-days ;  we  have  'em  once  a  week ;  and  I  like  to  let 
the  ladies  see  beforehand  what  nature's  got  on  the  bill 
for  'em,  in  the  woods  and  pastur's." 

"  It's  a  good  idea,"  said  Westover,  "  and  it's  fresh 
and  picturesque."  Whitwell  laughed  for  pleasure. 
"  They  told  me  what  a  consolation  you  were  to  the 
ladies,  with  your  walks  and  talks." 

"  Well,  I  try  to  give  'em  something  to  think  about," 
said  Whitwell. 

"But  why  do  you  confine  your  ministrations  to  one 


sex 


"  I  don't,  on  purpose.  But  it's  the  only  sex  here, 
three-fourths  of  the  time.  Even  the  children  are  mostly 
all  girls.  When  the  husbands  come  up  Saturday  nights, 
they  don't  want  to  go  on  a  tramp  Sundays.  They 
want  to  lay  off  and  rest.  That's  about  how  it  is. 
Well,  you  see  some  changes  about  Lion's  Head,  I 
presume  ?  "  he  asked,  with  what  seemed  an  impersonal 
pleasure  in  them. 

"  I  should  rather  have  found  the  old  farm.  But  I 
must  say  I'm  glad  to  find  such  a  good  hotel." 

"  Jeff  and  his  mother  made  their  brags  to  you?" 
said  Whitwell,  with  a  kind  of  amiable  scorn.  "  I  guess 
if  it  wa'n't  for  Cynthy  she  wouldn't  know  where  she 
was  standin',  half  the  time.  It  don't  matter  where 
Jeff  stands,  I  guess.  Jackson's  the  best  o'  the  lot, 
now  the  old  man's  gone."  There  was  no  one  by  at 
the  moment  to  hear  these  injuries  except  Westover, 
but  Whitwell  called  them  out  with  a  frankness  which 
was  perhaps  more  carefully  adapted  to  the  situation 
E 


66  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

than  it  seemed.  Westover  made  no  attempt  to  parry 
them  formally;  but  he  offered  some  generalities  in 
extenuation  of  the  unworthiness  of  the  Durgins,  which 
Whitwell  did  not  altogether  refuse. 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right.  Old  woman  talk  to  you  about 
Jeff's  going  to  college?  I  thought  so.  Wants  to 
make  another  Dan'el  Webster  of  him.  Guess  she  can's 
far  forth  as  Dan'cl's  graduatin'  went."  Westover 
tried  to  remember  how  this  had  been  with  the  states 
man,  but  could  not,  Whitwell  added  with  intensify 
ing  irony  of  look  and  tone :  "  Guess  the  second  Dan'el 
won't  have  a  chance  to  tear  his  degree  up ;  guess  he 
wouldn't  ever  b'en  ready  to  try  for  it  if  it  had  de 
pended  on  him.  They  don't  keep  any  record  at  Har 
vard,  do  they,  of  the  way  fellows  are  prepared  for  their 
preliminary  examinations  ? " 

"  I  don't  quite  know  what  you  mean,"  said  West- 
over. 

"  Oh,  nothin'.  You  get  a  chance  some  time  to  ask 
Jeff  who  done  most  of  his  studyin'  for  him  at  the 
Academy." 

This  hint  was  not  so  darkling  but  AVestover  could 
understand  that  Whitwell  attributed  Jeff's  scholarship 
to  the  help  of  Cynthia,  but  he  would  not  press  him  to 
an  open  assertion  of  the  fact.  There  was  something 
painful  in  it  to  him ;  it  had  the  pathos  which  perhaps 
most  of  the  success  in  the  world  would  reveal  if  we 
could  penetrate  its  outside. 

He  was  silent,  and  Whitwell  left  the  point.  "  Well," 
he  concluded,  "what's  goin'  on  in  them  old  European 
countries  ?  " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  67 

"  Oh,  the  old  thing,"  said  Westovcr.  "  But  I  can't 
speak  for  any  except  France,  very  well." 

"What's  their  republic  like,  over  there?  Ours? 
See  anything  of  it,  how  it  works  ? " 

"  Well,  you  know,"  said  Westover,  "  I  was  working 
so  hard  myself  all  the  time — 

"  Good !  "  Whitwell  slapped  his  leg.  Westover 
saw  that  he  had  on  long  india-rubber  boots,  which 
came  up  to  his  knees,  and  he  gave  a  wayward  thought 
to  the  misery  they  would  be  on  an  August  day  to  an 
other  man ;  but  Whitwell  was  probably  insensible  to 
any  discomfort  from  them.  "  When  a  man's  mindin' 
his  own  business  any  government's  good,  I  guess. 
But  I  should  like  to  prowl  round  some  them  places 
where  they  had  the  worst  scenes  of  the  Revolution. 
Ever  been  in  the  Place  de  la  Concorde?  "  Whitwell 
gave  it  the  full  English  pronunciation. 

"  I  passed  through  it  nearly  every  day." 

"  I  want  to  know !  And  that  column  that  they 
pulled  down  in  the  Commune  that  had  that  little 
Boney  on  it :  sec  that  ? " 

"  In  the  Place  Vendome  ? " 

"  Yes,  Plass  Vonndomc." 

"  Oh,  yes.  You  wouldn't  know  it  had  ever  been 
down." 

"  Nor  the  things  it  stood  for  ?  " 

"  As  to  that,  I  can't  be  so  sure." 

"  Well,  it's  funny,"  said  the  philosopher,  "  how 
the  world  seems  to  always  come  out  at  the  same  hole 
it  went  in  at !  "  He  paused,  with  his  mouth  open;  as 
if  to  let  the  notion  have  full  effect  with  Westover. 


68  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

The  painter  said,  "  And  you're  still  in  the  old  place, 
Mr.  Whitwell  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  like  my  own  house.  They've  wanted  me 
to  come  up  here  often  enough,  but  I'm  satisfied  where 
I  am.  It's  quiet  down  there,  and  when  I  get  through 
for  the  day  I  can  read.  And  I  like  to  keep  my  fam 
ily  together.  Cynthy  and  Frank  always  sleep  at  home, 
and  Jombateeste  eats  with  me.  You  remember  Jom- 
bateeste  ? " 

Westover  had  to  say  that  he  did  not. 
"  Well,  I  don't  know  as  you  did  see  him,  much. 
He  was  that  Canuck  I  had  helpin'  me  clear  that  piece 
over  on  Lion's  Head  for  the  pulp-mill ;  pulp-mill  went 
all  to  thunder,  and  I  never  got  a  cent.  And  some 
times  Jackson  comes  down  with  his  plantchette  and 
we  have  a  good  time." 

"  Jackson  still  believes  in  the  manifestations  ?  " 
"  Yes.    But  he's  never  developed  much  himself.    He 
can't  seem  to  do  much  without  the  plantchette.  We've 
had  up  some  them  old  philosophers  lately.      We've 
had  up  Socrates." 

"  Is  that  so?  It  must  be  very  interesting." 
Whitwell  did  not  answer,  and  Westover  saw  his  eye 
wander.  He  looked  round.  Several  ladies  were  com 
ing  across  the  grass  towards  him  from  the  hotel,  lifting 
their  skirts  and  tiptoeing  through  the  dew.  They 
called  to  him,  "  Good-morning,  Mr.  Whitwell !  "  and 
"  Are  you  going  up  Lion's  Head  to-day  ?  "  and  "  Don't 
you  think  it  will  rain  ?  " 

"  Guess  not,"  said  Whitwell,  with  a  fatherly  urban 
ity  and  an  air  of  amusement  at  the  anxieties  of  the 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  69 

sex,  which  seemed  habitual  to  him.  He  waited  tran 
quilly  for  them  to  come  up,  and  then  asked  with  a 
wave  of  his  hand  towards  Westover,  "Acquainted 
with  Mr.  Westover,  the  attist?"  He  named  each  of 
them,  and  it  would  have  been  no  great  vanity  in  West- 
over  to  think  they  had  made  their  little  movement 
across  the  grass  quite  as  much  in  the  hope  of  an  in 
troduction  to  him  as  in  the  wish  to  consult  Whitwell 
about  his  plans. 

The  painter  found  himself  the  centre  of  an  agree 
able  excitement  with  all  the  ladies  in  the  house.  For 
this  it  was  perhaps  sufficient  to  be  a  man.  To  be  rea 
sonably  young  and  decently  good-looking,  to  be  an 
artist,  and  an  artist  not  unknown,  were  advantages 
which  had  the  splendor  of  superfluity. 

He  liked  finding  himself  in  the  simple  and  innocent 
American  circumstance  again,  and  he  was  not  sorry  to 
be  confronted  at  once  with  one  of  the  most  character 
istic  aspects  of  our  summer.  He  could  read  in  the 
present  development  of  Lion's  Head  House  all  the 
history  of  its  evolution  from  the  first  conception  of 
farm-board,  which  sufficed  the  earliest  comers,  to  its 
growth  in  the  comforts  and  conveniences  which  more 
fastidious  tastes  and  larger  purses  demanded.  Before 
this  point  was  reached,  the  boarders  would  be  of  a 
good  and  wholesome  sort,  but  they  would  be  people 
of  no  social  advantages,  and  not  of  much  cultivation, 
though  they  might  be  intelligent ;  they  would  certainly 
not  be  fashionable ;  five  dollars  a  week  implied  all 
that,  except  in  the  case  of  some  wandering  artist  or 
the  family  of  some  poor  young  professor.  But  when 


70  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

the  farm  became  a  boarding-house  ftnd  called  itself  a 
hotel,  as  at  present  with  Lion's  Head  House,  and  peo 
ple  paid  ten  dollars  a  week,  or  twelve  for  transients,  a 
moment  of  its  character  was  reached  which  could  not 
be  surpassed  when  its  prosperity  became  greater,  and 
its  inmates  more  pretentious.  In  fact,  the  people  who 
can  afford  to  pay  ten  dollars  a  week  for  summer  board 
and  not  much  more,  are  often  the  best  of  the  American 
people,  or  at  least  of  the  New  England  people.  They 
may  not  know  it,  and  those  who  are  richer  may  not 
imagine  it.  They  are  apt  to  be  middle-aged  maiden 
ladies  from  university  towns,  living  upon  carefully 
guarded  investments ;  young  married  ladies  with  a 
scant  child  or  two,  and  needing  rest  and  change  of 
air ;  college  professors  with  nothing  but  their  modest 
salaries;  literary  men  or  women  in  the  beginning  of 
their  tempered  success;  clergymen  and  their  wives 
away  from  their  churches  in  the  larger  country  towns 
or  the  smaller  suburbs  of  the  cities ;  here  and  there  an 
agreeable  bachelor  in  middle  life,  fond  of  literature 
and  nature ;  hosts  of  young  and  pretty  girls  with  dis 
tinct  tastes  in  art,  and  devoted  to  the  clever  young 
painter  who  leads  them  to  the  sources  of  inspiration 
in  the  fields  and  woods.  Such  people  are  refined,  hu 
mane,  appreciative,  sympathetic ;  and  Westover,  fresh 
from  the  life  abroad  where  life  is  seldom  so  free  as 
ours  without  some  stain,  was  glad  to  find  himself  in 
the  midst  of  this  unrestraint,  which  was  so  sweet  and 
pure.  He  had  seen  enough  of  rich  people  to  know 
that  riches  seldom  bought  the  highest  qualities,  even 
among  his  fellow-countrymen  who  suppose  that  riches 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  71 

can  do  everything,  and  the  first  aspects  of  society  at 
Lion's  Head  seemed  to  him  Arcadian.  There  really 
proved  to  be  a  shepherd  or  two  among  all  that  troop 
of  shepherdesses,  old  and  young ;  though  it  was  in  the 
middle  of  the  week,  remote  alike  from  the  Saturday 
of  arrivals  and  the  Monday  of  departures.  To  be  sure 
there  was  none  quite  so  young  as  himself,  except  Jeff 
Durgin,  who  was  officially  exterior  to  .the  social  life. 

The  painter  who  gave  lessons  to  the  ladies  was  al 
ready  a  man  of  forty,  and  he  was  strongly  dragoned 
round  by  a  wife  almost  as  old,  who  had  taken  great 
pains  to  secure  him  for  herself,  and  who  worked  him 
to  far  greater  advantage  in  his  profession  than  he  could 
possibly  have  worked  himself;  she  got  him  orders; 
sold  his  pictures,  even  in  Boston,  where  they  never  buy 
American  pictures;  found  him  pupils,  and  kept  the 
boldest  of  these  from  flirting  with  him.  Westover, 
who  was  so  newly  from  Paris,  was  able  to  console  him 
with  talk  of  the  salons  and  ateliers,  which  he  had  not 
heard  from  so  directly  in  ten  years.  After  the  first 
inevitable  moment  of  jealousy,  his  wife  forgave  West- 
over  when  she  found  that  he  did  not  want  pupils,  and 
she  took  a  leading  part  in  the  movement  to  have  him 
read  Browning  at  a  picnic,  organized  by  the  ladies 
shortly  after  he  came. 


XII. 

THE  picnic  was  held  in  WhitwelPs  Clearing,  on  the 
side  of  Lion's  Head,  where  the  moss,  almost  as  white 
as  snow,  lay  like  belated  drifts  among  the  tall,  thin 
grass  which  overran  the  space  opened  by  the  axe,  and 
crept  to  the  verge  of  the  low  pines  growing  in  the 
shelter  of  the  loftier  woods.  It  was  the  end  of  one  of 
Whitwell's  "  Tramps  Home  to  Nature,"  as  he  called  his 
walks  and  talks  with  the  ladies,  and  on  this  day  West- 
over's  fellow-painter  had  added  to  his  lessons  in  wood- 
lore  the  claims  of  art,  intending  that  his  class  should 
make  studies  of  various  bits  in  the  clearing,  and  should 
try  to  catch  something  of  its  peculiar  charm.  He 
asked  Westover  what  he  thought  of  the  notion,  and. 
Westover  gave  it  his  approval,  which  became  enthusi 
astic  when  he  saw  the  place.  He  found  in  it  the  mel 
ancholy  grace,  the  poignant  sentiment  of  ruin  which 
expresses  itself  in  some  measure  wherever  man  has 
invaded  nature,  and  then  left  his  conquest  to  her  again. 
In  Whitwell's  Clearing  the  effect  was  intensified  by 
the  approach  on  the  fading  wood  road,  which  the 
wagons  had  made  in  former  days  when  they  hauled 
the  fallen  timber  to  the  pulp-mill.  In  places  it  was  so 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  73 

vague  and  faint  as  to  be  hardly  a  trail;  in  others, 
where  the  wheel  tracks  remained  visible,  the  trees  had 
sent  out  a  new  growth  of  lower  branches  in  the  place 
of  those  lopped  away,  and  almost  forbade  the  advance 
of  foot-passengers.  The  ladies  said  they  did  not  see 
how  Jeff  was  ever  going  to  get  through  with  the 
wagon,  and  they  expressed  fears  for  the  lunch  he  was 
bringing,  which  seemed  only  too  well  grounded. 

But  Whitwell,  who  was  loading  them  on,  said  : 
"  You  let  a  Durgin  alone  to  do  a  thing  when  he's  made 
up  his  mind  to  it.  I  guess  you'll  have  your  lunch  all 
right "  ;  and  by  the  time  that  they  had  got  enough  of 
Browning,  they  heard  the  welcome  sound  of  wheels 
crashing  upon  dead  boughs,  and  swishing  through  the 
underbrush,  and  in  the  pauses  of  these  pleasant  noises, 
the  voice  of  Jeff  Durgin  encouraging  his  horses.  The 
children  of  the  party  broke  away  to  meet  him,  and 
then  he  came  in  sight  ahead  of  his  team,  looking  strong 
and  handsome  in  his  keeping  with  the  scene.  Before 
he  got  within  hearing,  the  ladies  murmured  a  hymn  of 
praise  to  his  type  of  beauty ;  they  said  he  looked  like 
a  young  Hercules,  and  Westover  owned  with  an  in 
ward  smile  that  Jeff  had  certainly  made  the  best  of 
himself  for  the  time  being.  He  had  taken  a  leaf  from 
the  book  of  the  summer  folks ;  his  stalwart  calves  re 
vealed  themselves  in  thick-ribbed  stockings ;  he  wore 
knickerbockers  and  a  Norfolk  jacket  of  corduroy  ;  he 
had  style  as  well  as  beauty,  and  he  had  the  courage  of 
his  clothes  and  looks.  Westover  was  still  in  the  first 
surprise  of  the  American  facts,  and  he  wondered  just 
what  part  in  the  picnic  Jeff  was  to  bear  socially.  He 


74  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

was  neither  quite  host  or  guest ;  but  no  doubt  in  the 
easy  play  of  the  life,  which  Westover  was  rather  proud 
to  find  so  charming,  the  question  would  solve  itself 
rationally  and  gracefully. 

"  Where  do  you  want  the  things  ? "  the  young  fel 
low  asked  of  the  company  at  large,  as  he  advanced 
upon  them  from  the  green  portals  of  the  roadway,  pull 
ing  off  his  soft  wool  hat,  and  wiping  his  wet  forehead 
with  his  blue-bordered  white  handkerchief. 

"Oh,  right  here,  Jeff."  The  nimblest  of  the 
nymphs  sprang  to  her  feet  from  the  lounging  and 
crouching  circle  about  AVestover.  She  was  a  young 
nymph  no  longer,  but  with  a  daughter  not  so  much 
younger  than  herself  as  to  make  the  contrast  of  her 
sixteen  years  painful.  Westover  recognized  the  offi 
cious,  self-approving  kind  of  the  woman,  but  he  ad 
mired  the  brisk  efficiency  with  which  she  had  taken 
possession  of  the  affair  from  the  beginning  and  in 
spired  every  one  to  help,  in  strict  subordination  to 
herself. 

When  the  cloths  were  laid  on  the  smooth,  elastic 
moss,  and  the  meal  was  spread,  she  heaped  a  plate 
without  suffering  any  interval  in  her  activities. 

"  I  suppose  you've  got  to  go  back  to  your  horses, 
Jeff,  and  you  shall  be  the  first  served,"  she  said,  and 
she  offered  him  the  plate  with  a  bright  smile  and 
friendly  grace,  which  were  meant  to  keep  him  from 
the  hurt  of  her  intention. 

Jeff  did  not  offer  to  take  the  plate  which  she  raised 
to  him  from  where  she  was  kneeling,  but  looked  down 
at  her  with  perfect  intelligence.  "I  guess  I  don't 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  75 

want  anything,"  he  said,  and  turned  and  walked  away 
into  the  woods. 

The  ill-advised  woman  remained  kneeling  for  a 
moment  with  her  ingratiating  smile  hardening  on  her 
face,  while  the  sense  of  her  blunder  petrified  the  rest. 
She  was  the  first  to  recover  herself,  and  she  said  with 
a  laugh  that  she  tried  to  make  reckless,  "  Well,  friends, 
I  suppose  the  rest  of  you  are  hungry ;  I  know  /  am," 
and  she  began  to  eat. 

The  others  ate,  too,  though  their  appetites  might 
well  have  been  affected  by  the  diplomatic  behavior  of 
AVhitwell.  He  would  not  take  anything,  just  at  pres 
ent,  he  said,  and  got  his  lank  length  up  from  the  root 
of  a  tree  where  he  had  folded  it  down.  "  I  don't  seem 
to  care  much  for  anything  in  the  middle  of  the  day ; 
breakfast's  my  best  meal,"  and  he  followed  Jeff  off 
into  the  woods. 

"  Really,"  said  the  lady,  "  what  did  they  expect  ? " 
But  the  question  was  so  difficult  that  no  one  seemed 
able  to  make  the  simple  answer. 

The  incident  darkened  the  day,  and  spoiled  its 
pleasure ;  it  cast  a  lessening  shadow  into  the  evening 
when  the  guests  met  round  the  fire  in  the  large,  ugly 
new  parlor  at  the  hotel. 

The  next  morning  the  ladies  assembled  again  on  the 
piazza  to  decide  what  should  be  done  with  the  beauti 
ful  day  before  them.  Whitwell  stood  at  the  foot  of 
the  flag-staff  with  one  hand  staying  his  person  against 
it,  like  a  figure  posed  in  a  photograph  to  verify  pro 
portions  in  the  different  features  of  a  prospect. 

The  heroine  of   the  unhappy  affair  of   the  picnic 


76  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

could  not  forbear  authorizing  herself  to  invoke  his 
opinion  at  a  certain,  point  of  the  debate,  and  "  Mr. 
Whitwell !  "  she  called  to  him,  "  won't  you  please  come 
here  a  moment  ?  " 

Whitwell  slowly  pulled  himself  across  the  grass  to 
the  group,  and  at  the  same  moment,  as  if  she  had  been 
waiting  for  him  to  be  present,  Mrs.  Durgin  came  out 
of  the  office  door  and  advanced  towards  the  ladies. 

"  Mrs.  Marven,"  she  said,  with  the  stony  passivity 
which  the  ladies  used  to  note  in  her  when  they  came 
over  to  Lion's  Head  farm  in  the  tally-hoes,  "  the  stage 
leaves  here  at  two  o'clock  to  get  the  down  train  at 
three.  I  want  you  should  have  your  trunks  ready  to 
go  on  the  wagon  a  little  before  two." 

"  You  want  I  should  have  my —  What  do  you 
mean,  Mrs.  Durgin  ? " 

"  I  want  your  rooms." 

"You  want  my  rooms?" 

Mrs.  Durgin  did  not  answer.  She  let  her  steadfast 
look  suffice ;  and  Mrs.  Marven  went  on  in  a  rising  flut 
ter:  "Why,  you  can't  have  my  rooms  !  I  don't  un 
derstand  you.  I've  taken  my  rooms  for  the  whole  of 
August,  and  they  are  mine ;  and — " 

"  I  have  got  to  have  your  rooms,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin. 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  won't  give  them  up,"  said  the 
lady.  "  A  bargain's  a  bargain,  and  I  have  your  agree 
ment — " 

"  If  you're  not  out  of  your  rooms  by  two  o'clock, 
your  thing-s  will  be  put  out ;  and  after  dinner  to-day 
you  will  not  eat  another  bite  under  my  roof." 

Mrs.  Durgin  went  in,  and  it  remained  for  the  com- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

pany  to  make  what  they  could  of  the  affair.  Mrs. 
Marven  did  not  wait  for  the  result.  She  was  not  a 
dignified  person,  but  she  rose  with  hauteur  and 
whipped  away  to  her  rooms,  hers  no  longer,  to  make 
her  preparations.  She  knew  at  least  how  to  give  her 
going  the  effect  of  quitting  the  place  with  disdain  and 
abhorrence. 

The  incident  of  her  expulsion  was  brutal,  but  it  was 
clearly  meant  to  be  so.  It  made  Westover  a  little 
sick,  and  he  would  have  liked  to  pity  Mrs.  Marven 
more  than  he  could.  The  ladies  said  that  Mrs.  Dur- 
gin's  behavior  was  an  outrage,  and  they  ought  all  to 
resent  it  by  going  straight  to  their  own  rooms  and 
packing  their  things  and  leaving  on  the  same  stage 
with  Mrs.  Marven.  None  of  them  did  so,  and  their 
talk  veered  round  to  something  extenuating  if  not  jus 
tifying  Mrs.  Durgin's  action.  • 

"  I  suppose,"  one  of  them  said,  "  that  she  felt  more 
indignant  about  it,  because  she  has  been  so  very  good 
to  Mrs.  Marven,  and  her  daughter,  too.  They  were 
both  sick  on  her  hands  here  for  a  week,  after  they 
came,  first  one  and  then  the  other,  and  she  looked  after 
them  and  did  for  them  like  a  mother." 

"  And  yet,"  another  lady  suggested,  "  what  could 
Mrs.  Marven  have  done  ?  What  did  she  do  ?  He  wasn't 
asked  to  the  picnic,  and  I  don't  see  why  he  should 
have  been  treated  as  a  guest.  He  was  there,  purely 
and  simply,  to  bring  the  things  and  take  them  away. 
And  besides,  if  there  is  anything  in  distinctions,  in 
differences,  if  we  are  to  choose  who  is  to  associate 
with  us — or  our  daughters — ' 


78  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  That  is  true,"  the  ladies  said,  in  one  form  or  an 
other,  with  the  tone  of  conviction ;  but  they  were  not 
so  deeply  convinced  but  they  wanted  a  man's  opinion, 
and  they  all  looked  at  Westover. 

He  would  not  respond  to  their  look,  and  the  lady 
who  had  argued  for  Mrs.  Marven  had  to  ask,  "  What 
do  you  think,  Mr.  Westover  ? " 

"  Ah,  it's  a  difficult  question,"  he  said.  "  I  suppose 
that  as  long  as  one  person  believes  himself  or  herself 
socially  better  than  another,  it  must  always  be  a  fresh 
problem  what  to  do  in  every  given  case." 

The  ladies  said  they  supposed  so,  and  they  were 
forced  to  make  what  they  could  of  wisdom  in  which 
they  might  certainly  have  felt  a  want  of  finality. 

Westover  went  away  from  them  in  a  perplexed  mind 
which  was  not  simplified  by  the  contempt  he  had  at 
the  bottom  of  all  for  something  unmanly  in  Jeff,  who 
had  carried  his  grievance  to  his  mother  like  a  slighted 
boy,  and  provoked  her  to  take  up  arms  for  him. 

The  sympathy  for  Mrs.  Marven  mounted  again  when 
it  was  seen  that  she  did  not  come  to  dinner,  or  permit 
her  daughter  to  do  so,  and  when  it  became  known 
later  that  she  had  refused  for  both  the  dishes  sent  to 
their  rooms.  Her  farewells  to  the  other  ladies,  when 
they  gathered  to  see  her  off  on  the  stage,  were  airy 
rather  than  cheery ;  there  was  almost  a  demonstration 
in  her  behalf,  but  Westover  was  oppressed  by  a  kind 
of  inherent  squalor  in  the  incident. 

At  night  he  responded  to  a  knock  which  he  sup 
posed  that  of  Frank  AVhitwell  with  ice-water,  and  Mrs. 
Durgin  came  into  his  room,  and  sat  down  in  one  of 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  79 

his  two  chairs.  "  Mr.  Westover,"  she  said,  "  if  you 
knew  all  I  had  done  for  that  woman  and  her  daughter, 
and  how  much  she  had  pretended  to  think  of  us  all,  I 
don't  believe  you'd  be  so  ready  to  judge  me." 

"  Judge  you  !  "  cried  Westover.  "  Bless  my  soul, 
Mrs.  Durgin  !  I  haven't  said  a  word  that  could  be 
tormented  into  the  slightest  censure." 

"  But  you  think  I  done  wrong  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  been  at  all  able  to  satisfy  myself  on 
that  point,  Mrs.  Durgin.  I  think  it's  always  wrong  to 
revenge  one's  self." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin,  humbly; 
and  the  tears  came  into  her  eyes.  "  I  got  the  tray 
ready  with  my  own  hands,  that  was  sent  to  her  room ; 
but  she  wouldn't  touch  it.  1  presume  she  didn't  like 
having  a  plate  prepared  for  her  !  But  I  did  feel  sorry 
for  her.  She  aVt  over  and  above  strong,  and  I'm 
afraid  she'll  be  sick ;  there  a'n't  any  rest'rant  at  our 
depot." 

Westover  fancied  this  a  fit  mood  in  Mrs.  Durgin  for 
her  further  instruction,  and  he  said,  "  And  if  you'll 
excuse  me,  Mrs.  Durgin,  I  don't  think  what  you  did 
was  quite  the  way  to  keep  a  hotel." 

More  tears  flashed  into  Mrs.  Durgin's  eyes,  but  they 
were  tears  of  wrath  now.  "  I  would  'a'  done  it,"  she 
said,  "  if  I  thought  every  single  one  of  'em  would  'a' 
left  the  house  the  next  minute,  for  there  a'n't  one  that 
has  the  first  word  to  say  against  me,  any  other  way. 
It  wa'n't  that  I  cared  whether  she  thought  my  son  was 
good  enough  to  eat  with  her  or  not ;  I  know  what  / 
think,  and  that's  enough  for  me.  He  wa'n't  invited 


80  THE    LANDLOIID    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

to  the  picnic,  and  lie  a'n't  one  to  put  himself  forward. 
If  she  didn't  want  him  to  stay,  all  she  had  to  do  was 
to  do  nothin'.  But  to  make  him  up  a  plate  before 
everybody,  and  hand  it  to  him  to  eat  with  the  horses, 
like  a  tramp,  or  a  dog — "  Mrs.  Durgin  filled  to  the 
throat  with  her  wrath,  and  the  sight  of  her  made  West- 
over  keenly  unhappy. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said.  "  It  was  a  miserable  business." 
He  could  not  help  adding,  "  If  Jeff  could  have  kept  it 
to  himself, — but  perhaps  that  wasn't  possible." 

"  Mr.  Westover !  "  said  Mrs.  Durgin,  sternly.  "  Do 
you  think  Jeff  would  come  to  me,  like  a  great  cry 
baby,  and  complain  of  my  lady  boarders  and  the  way 
they  used  him «  It  was  Mr.  Whit'ell  that  let  it  out, 
or  I  don't  know  as  I  should  ever  known  about  it." 

"  I'm  glad  Jeff  didn't  tell  you,"  said  Westover,  with 
a  revulsion  of  good  feeling  toward  him. 

"  He'd  'a'  died  first,"  said  his  mother.  "  But  Mr. 
Whit'ell  done  just  right  all  through,  and  I  sha'n't 
soon  forget  it.  Jeff's  give  me  a  proper  goin'  over  for 
what  I  done ;  both  the  boys  have.  But  I  couldn't  help 
it,  and  I  should  do  just  so  again.  All  is,  I  wanted 
you  should  know  just  what  you  was  blamin'  me  for — " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  blame  you.  I  only  wish  you 
could  have  helped  it — managed  some  other  way." 

"  I  did  try  to  get  over  it,  and  all  I  done  was  to  lose 
a  night's  rest.  Then,  this  morning,  when  I  see  her 
settin'  there  so  cool  and  mighty  with  the  boarders, 
and  takin'  the  lead  as  usual,  I  just  waited  till  she  got 
Whit'ell  across,  and  nearly  everybody  was  there  that 
saw  what  she  done  to  Jeff,  and  then  I  flew  out  on  her." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  81 

Westover  could  not  suppress  a  laugh.  "  Well, 
Mrs.  Durgin,  your  retaliation  was  complete ;  it  was 
dramatic." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Durgin,  rising  and  resuming  her  self-control ;  she  did 
not  refuse  herself  a  grim  smile.  "  But  I  guess  she 
thought  it  was  pretty  perfect  herself — or  she  will, 
when  she's  able  to  give  her  mind  to  it.  I'm  sorry  for 
her  daughter ;  I  never  had  anything  against  her ;  or 
her  mother  either,  for  that  matter,  before.  Franky 
look  after  you  pretty  well?  I'll  send  him  up  with 
your  ice-water.  Got  everything  else  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  should  have  to  invent  a  want,  if  I  wished  to 
complain,"  said  Westover. 

"  Well,  I  should  like  to  have  you  do  it.  W^e  can't 
ever  do  too  much  for  you.  Well,  good-night,  Mr. 
Westover." 

"  Good-night,  Mrs,  Durgin," 


XIII. 

JEFF  DURGIN  entered  Harvard  that  fall,  with  fewer 
conditions  than  most  students  have  to  work  off.  This 
was  set  down  to  the  credit  of  Lovewell  Academy, 
where  he  had  prepared  for  the  University  ;  and  some 
observers  in  such  matters  were  interested  to  note  how 
thoroughly  the  old  school  in  a  remote  town  had  done 
its  work  for  him. 

None  who  formed  personal  relations  with  him  at 
that  time  conjectured  that  he  had  done  much  of  the 
work  for  himself,  and  even  to  Westover,  when  Jeff 
came  to  him  some  weeks  after  his  settlement  in  Cam 
bridge,  he  seemed  painfully  out  of  his  element,  and 
unamiably  aware  of  it.  For  the  time,  at  least,  he  had 
lost  the  jovial  humor,  not  too  kindly  always,  which 
largely  characterized  him,  and  expressed  itself  in  sallies 
of  irony  which  were  not  so  unkindly  either.  The 
painter  perceived  that  he  was  on  his  guard  against  his 
own  friendly  interest ;  Jeff  made  haste  to  explain  that 
he  came  because  he  had  told  his  mother  that  he  would 
do  so.  He  scarcely  invited  a  return  of  his  visit,  and 
he  left  Westover  wondering  at  the  sort  of  vague  rebel- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  83 

lion  against  his  new  life  which  he  seemed  to  be  in. 
The  painter  went  out  to  see  him  in  Cambridge,  not 
long  after,  and  was  rather  glad  to  find  him  rooming 
with  some  other  rustic  Freshman  in  a  humble  street 
running  from  the  square  towards  the  river;  for  he 
thought  Jeff  must  have  taken  his  lodging  for  its  cheap 
ness,  out  of  regard  to  his  mother's  means.  But  Jeff 
was  not  glad  to  be  found  there,  apparently  ;  he  said  at 
once  that  he  expected  to  get  a  room  in  the  Yard  the 
next  year,  and  eat  at  Memorial  Hall.  He  spoke  scorn 
fully  of  his  boarding-house  as  a  place  where  they  were 
all  a  lot  of  jays  together ;  and  AVestover  thought  him 
still  more  at  odds  with  his  environment  than  he  had 
before.  But  Jeff  consented  to  come  in  and  dine  with 
him  at  his  restaurant,  and  afterwards  go  to  the  theatre 
with  him. 

When  he  came,  Westover  did  not  quite  like  his  de 
spatch  of  the  half -bottle  of  California  claret  served  each 
of  them  with  the  Italian  table  d'hote.  He  did  not  like 
his  having  already  seen  the  play  he  proposed ;  and  he 
found  some  difficulty  in  choosing  a  play  which  Jeff 
had  not  seen.  It  appeared  then  that  he  had  been  at 
the  theatre  two  or  three  times  a  week  for  the  last 
month,  and  that  it  was  almost  as  great  a  passion  with 
him  as  with  Westover  himself.  He  had  become  al 
ready  a  critic  of  acting,  with  a  rough  good  sense  of 
it,  and  a  decided  opinion.  He  knew  which  actors  he 
preferred,  and  which  actresses,  better  still.  It  was 
some  consolation  for  Westover  to  find  that  he  mostly 
took  an  admission  ticket  when  he  went  to  the  thea 
tre  ;  but  though  he  could  not  blame  Jeff  for  showing 


84  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

his  own  fondness  for  it,  he  wished  that  he  had  not  his 
fondness. 

So  far  Jeff  seemed  to  have  spent  very  few  of  his 
evenings  in  Cambridge,  and  Westover  thought  it  would 
be  well  if  he  had  some  acquaintance  there.  He  made 
favor  for  him  with  a  friendly  family,  who  asked  him 
to  dinner.  They  did  it  to  oblige  Westover,  against 
their  own  judgment  and  knowledge,  for  they  said  it 
was  always  the  same  with  Freshmen ;  a  single  act  of 
hospitality  finished  the  acquaintance.  Jeff  came,  and 
he  behaved  with  as  great  indifference  to  the  kindness 
meant  him  as  if  he  were  dining  out  every  night ;  he 
excused  himself  very  early  in  the  evening  on  the 
ground  that  he  had  to  go  into  Boston,  and  he  never 
paid  his  dinner-call.  After  that  Westover  tried  to 
consider  his  whole  duty  to  him  fulfilled,  and  not  to 
trouble  himself  further.  Now  and  then,  however,  Jeff 
disappointed  the  expectation  Westover  had  formed  of 
him,  by  coming  to  see  him,  and  being  apparently  glad 
of  the  privilege.  But  he  did  not  make  the  painter 
think  that  he  was  growing  in  grace  or  wisdom,  though 
he  apparently  felt  an  increasing  confidence  in  his  own 
knowledge  of  life. 

Westover  could  only  feel  a  painful  interest  tinged 
with  amusement  in  his  grotesque  misconceptions  of 
the  world  where  he  had  not  yet  begun  to  right  him 
self.  Jeff  believed  lurid  things  of  the  society  wholly 
unknown  to  him ;  to  his  gross  credulity,  Boston  houses 
which  at  the  worst  were  the  homes  of  a  stiff  and  cold 
exclusiveness,  were  the  scenes  of  riot  only  less  scan 
dalous  than  the  dissipation  to  which  fashionable  ladies 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  85 

abandoned  themselves  at  champagne  suppers  in  the 
Back  Bay  hotels,  and  on  their  secret  visits  to  the  Chi 
nese  opium-joints  in  Kingston  Street. 

Westover  tried  to  make  him  see  how  impossible  his 
fallacies  were  ;  but  he  could  perceive  that  Jeff  thought 
him  either  wilfully  ignorant  or  helplessly  innocent ; 
and  of  far  less  authority  than  a  barber  who  had  the 
entree  of  all  these  swell  families  as  hair-dresser,  and 
who  corroborated  the  witness  of  a  hotel  night-clerk 
(Jeff  would  not  give  their  names)  to  the  depravity  of 
the  upper  classes.  He  had  to  content  himself  with 
saying:  "I  hope  you  will  be  ashamed  some  day  of 
having  believed  such  rot.  But  I  suppose  it's  some 
thing  you've  got  to  go  through.  You  may  take  my 
word  for  it,  though,  that  it  isn't  going  to  do  you  any 
good.  It's  going  to  do  you  harm,  and  that's  why  I 
hate  to  have  you  think  it,  for  your  own  sake.  It  can't 
hurt  any  one  else." 

What  disgusted  the  painter  most  was  that,  with  all 
his  belief  in  the  wickedness  of  the  fine  world,  it  was 
clear  that  Jeff  would  have  willingly  been  of  it ;  and  he 
divined  that  if  he  had  any  strong  aspirations  they  were 
for  society  and  for  social  acceptance.  He  had  fancied, 
when  the  fellow  seemed  to  care  so  little  for  the  studies 
of  the  University,  that  he  might  come  forward  in  its 
sports.  Jeff  gave  more  and  more  the  effect  of  tremen 
dous  strength  in  his  peculiar  physique,  though  there 
was  always  the  disappointment  of  not  finding  him  tall. 
He  was  of  the  middle  height,  but  he  was  hewn  out  and 
squared  upward  massively.  He  felt  like  stone  to  any 
accidental  contact,  and  the  painter  brought  away  a 


86  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

bruise  from  the  mere  brunt  of  Ins  shoulders.  He 
learned  that  Jeff  was  a  frequenter  of  the  gymnasium, 
where  his  strength  must  have  been  known,  but  he 
could  not  make  out  that  he  had  any  standing  among 
the  men  who  went  in  for  athletics.  If  Jeff  had  even 
this,  the  sort  of  standing  in  college  which  he  failed  of 
would  easily  have  been  won  too.  But  he  had  been 
falsely  placed  at  the  start,  or  some  quality  of  his  nat 
ure  neutralized  other  qualities  that  would  have  made 
him  a  leader  in  college,  and  he  remained  one  of  the 
least  forward  men  in  it.  Other  jays  won  favor  and 
liking,  and  ceased  to  be  jays ;  Jeff  continued  a  jay. 
He  was  not  chosen  into  any  of  the  nicer  societies; 
those  that  he  joined  when  he  thought  they  were  swell 
he  could  not  care  for  when  he  found  they  were  not. 

Westover  came  into  a  knowledge  of  the  facts 
through  his  casual  and  scarcely  voluntary  confidences, 
and  he  pitied  him  somewhat  while  he  blamed  him  a 
great  deal  more,  without  being  able  to  help  him  at  all. 
It  appeared  to  him  that  the  fellow  had  gone  wrong 
more  through  ignorance  than  perversity,  and  that  it 
was  a  stubbornness  of  spirit  rather  than  a  badness  of 
heart  that  kept  him  from  going  right.  He  sometimes 
wondered  whether  it  was  not  more  a  baffled  wish  to  be 
justified  in  his  own  esteem  than  anything  else  that 
made  him  overvalue  the  things  he  missed.  He  knew 
how  such  an  experience  as  that  with  Mrs.  Marven  rank 
les  in  the  heart  of  youth,  and  will  not  cease  to  smart 
till  some  triumph  in  kind  brings  it  ease ;  but  between 
the  man  of  thirty  and  the  boy  of  twenty  there  is  a 
gulf  fixed,  and  he  could  not  ask.  He  did  not  know 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  87 

that  a  college  man  often  goes  wrong  in  his  first  year, 
out  of  no  impulse  that  he  can  very  clearly  account  for 
himself,  and  then  when  he  ceases  to  be  merely  of  his 
type  and  becomes  more  of  his  character,  he  pulls  up 
and  goes  right.  He  did  not  know  how  much  Jeff  had 
been  with  a  set  that  was  fast  without  being  fine.  The 
boy  had  now  and  then  a  book  in  his  hand  when  he 
came ;  not  always  such  a  book  as  Westover  could  have 
wished,  but  still  a  book ;  and  to  his  occasional  ques 
tions  about  how  he  was  getting  on  with  his  college 
work,  Jeff  made  brief  answers,  which  gave  the  notion 
that  he  was  not  neglecting  it. 

Towards  the  end  of  his  first  year  he  sent  to  West- 
over  one  night  from  a  station-house,  where  he  had 
been  locked  up  for  breaking  a  street-lamp  in  Boston. 
By  his  own  showing  he  had  not  broken  the  lamp,  or 
assisted,  except  through  his  presence,  at  the  misdeed 
of  the  tipsy  students  who  had  done  it.  His  breath 
betrayed  that  he  had  been  drinking  too  ;  but  otherwise 
he  seemed  as  sober  as  Westover  himself,  who  did  not 
know  whether  to  augur  well  or  ill  for  him  from  the 
proofs  he  had  given  before  of  his  ability  to  carry  off 
a  bottle  of  wine  with  a  perfectly  level  head.  Jeff 
seemed  to  believe  Westover  a  person  of  such  influence 
that  he  could  secure  his  release  at  once,  and  he  was 
abashed  to  find  that  he  must  pass  the  night  in  the 
cell,  where  he  conferred  with  AVestover  through  the 
bars. 

In  the  police  court,  where  his  companions  were 
fined,  the  next  morning,  he  was  discharged  for  want  of 
evidence  against  him;  but  the  University  authorities 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

did  not  take  the  same  view  as  the  civil  authorities. 
He  was  suspended,  and  for  the  time  he  passed  out  of 
Westover's  sight  and  knowledge. 

He  expected  to  find  him  at  Lion's  Head,  where  he 
went  to  pass  the  month  of  August — in  painting  those 
pictures  of  the  mountain  which  had  in  some  sort,  al 
most  in  spite  of  him,  become  his  specialty.  But  Mrs. 
Durgin  employed  the  first  free  moments  after  their 
meeting  in  explaining  that  Jeff  had  got  a  chance  to 
work  his  way  to  London  on  a  cattle-steamer,  and  had 
been  abroad  the  whole  summer.  He  had  written  home 
that  the  voyage  had  been  glorious,  with  plenty  to  eat 
and  little  to  do ;  and  he  had  made  favor  with  the  cap 
tain  for  his  return  by  the  same  vessel  in  September. 
By  other  letters  it  seemed  that  he  had  spent  the  time 
mostly  in  England ;  but  he  had  crossed  over  into 
France  for  a  fortnight,  and  had  spent  a  week  in  Paris. 
His  mother  read  some  passages  from  his  letters  aloud 
to  show  Westover  how  Jeff  was  keeping  his  eyes  open. 
His  accounts  of  his  travel  were  a  mixture  of  crude 
sensations  in  the  presence  of  famous  scenes  and  objects 
of  interest,  hard-headed  observation  of  the  facts  of 
life,  narrow-minded  misconception  of  conditions,  and 
wholly  intelligent  and  adequate  study  of  the  art  of  inn- 
keeping  in  city  and  country. 

Mrs.  Durgin  seemed  to  feel  that  there  was  some 
excuse  due  for  the  relative  quantity  of  the  last.  "  He 
knows  that's  what  I'd  care  for  the  most ;  and  Jeff  a'n't 
one  to  forget  his  mother."  As  if  the  word  reminded 
her,  she  added,  after  a  moment,  "  We  sha'n't  any  of 
us  soon  forget  what  you  done  for  Jeff — that  time." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  89 

"  I  didn't  do  anything  for  him,  Mrs.  Durgin ;  I 
couldn't,"  Westover  protested. 

"You  done  what  you  could,  and  I  know  that  you 
saw  the  thing  in  the  right  light,  or  you  wouldn't  'a' 
tried  to  do  anything.  Jeff  told  me  every  word  about 
it.  I  know  he  was  with  a  pretty  harum-scarum  crowd. 
But  it  was  a  lesson  to  him;  and  I  wa'n't  goin'  to 
have  him  come  back  here,  right  away,  and  have  folks 
talkin'  about  what  they  couldn't  understand,  after  the 
way  the  paper  had  it." 

"  Did  it  get  into  the  papers?  " 

"  Mm."  Mrs.  Durgin  nodded.  "  And  some  dirty, 
sneakin'  thing,  here,  wrote  a  letter  to  the  paper  and 
told  a  passel  o'  lies  about  Jeff,  and  all  of  us;  and  the 
paper  printed  Jeff's  picture  with  it :  I  don't  know  how 
they  got  a  hold  of  it.  So  when  he  got  that  chance  to 
go,  I  just  said,  '  Go.'  You'll  see  he'll  keep  all  straight 
enough  after  this,  Mr.  Westover." 

"Old  woman  read  you  any  of  Jeff's  letters?"  Whit- 
well  asked,  when  his  chance  for  private  conference 
with  Westover  came.  "  What  was  the  rights  of  that 
scrape  he  got  into  ?  " 

Westover  explained  as  favorably  to  Jeff  as  he  could ; 
the  worst  of  the  affair  was  the  bad  company  he  was  in. 

"  Well,  where  there's  smoke  there's  some  fire.  Cou't 
discharged  him,  and  college  suspended  him.  That's 
about  where  it  is  ?  I  guess  he'll  keep  out  o'  harm's 
way,  next  time.  Read  you  what  he  said  about  them 
scenes  of  the  Revolution  in  Paris  ? " 

"  Yes ;  he  seems  to  have  looked  it  all  up  pretty 
thoroughly." 


90  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Done  it  for  me,  I  guess,  much  as  anything.  I 
was  always  talkin'  it  up  with  him.  Jeff's  kep'  his 
eyes  open,  that's  a  fact.  He's  got  a  head  on  him, 
more'n  I  ever  thought." 

Westover  decided  that  Mrs.  Durgin's  prepotent  be 
havior  towards  Mrs.  Marven  the  summer  before  had 
not  hurt  her  materially,  with  the  witnesses  even. 
There  were  many  new  boarders,  but  most  of  those 
whom  he  had  already  met  were  again  at  Lion's  Head. 
They  said  there  was  no  air  like  it ;  and  no  place  so 
comfortable.  If  they  had  sold  their  birthright  for  a 
mess  of  pottage,  Westover  had  to  confess  that  the 
pottage  was  very  good.  Instead  of  the  Irish  woman 
at  ten  dollars  a  week  who  had  hitherto  been  Mrs.  Dur 
gin's  cook,  under  her  personal  surveillance  and  direc 
tion,  she  had  now  a  man  cook,  whom  she  boldly  called 
a  pkef,  and  paid  eighty  dollars  a  month.  He  wore  the 
white  apron  and  white  cap  of  his  calling,  but  Westover 
heard  him  speak  Yankee  through  his  nose  to  one  of 
the  stablemen  as  they  exchanged  hilarities  across  the 
space  between  the  basement  and  the  barn  door. 
"Yes,"  Mrs.  Durgin  admitted,  "he's  an  American; 
and  he  learnt  his  trade  at  one  of  the  best  hotels  in 
Portland.  He's  pretty  headstrong,  but  I  guess  he 
does  what  he's  told — in  the  end.  The  meanyous  ?  Oh, 
Franky  Whitwell  prints  them.  He's  got  an  amature 
printing-office  in  the  stable-loft. ''' 


XIV. 

ONE  jnorning  towards  the  end  of  August,  Whit- 
well,  who  was  starting  homeward,  after  leaving  his 
ladies,  burdened  with  their  wishes  and  charges  for  the 
morrow,  met  Westover  coming  up  the  hill  with  his 
painting-gear  in  his  hand.  "  Say  ! "  he  hailed  him. 
"  Why  don't  you  come  down  to  'the  house  to-night  ? 
Jackson's  goin'  to  come,  and  if  you  ha'n't  seen  him 
work  the  plantchette  for  a  spell,  you'll  be  surprised. 
There  a'n't  hardly  anybody  he  can't  have  up.  You'll 
come  ?  Good  enough  !  " 

What  affected  Westover  first  of  all  at  the  seance, 
and  perhaps  most  of  all,  was  the  quality  of  the  air  in 
the  little  house;  it  was  close  and  stuffy,  mixed  with 
an  odor  of  mould  and  an  ancient  smell  of  rats.  The 
kerosene-lamp  set  in  the  centre  of  the  table,  where 
Jackson  afterwards  placed  his  planchette,  devoured 
the  little  life  that  was  left  in  it.  At  the  gasps  which 
Westover  gave,  with  some  despairing  glances  at  the 
closed  windows,  Whitwell  said :  "  Hot  ?  Well,  I  guess 
it  is,  a  little.  But  you  see  Jackson  has  got  to  be  care 
ful  about  the  night  air ;  but  I  guess  I  can  fix  it  for 
you."  He  went  out  into  the  ell,  and  Westover  heard 


92  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

him  raising  a  window.  lie  came  back  and  asked, 
"  That  do  ?  It'll  get  around  in  here,  directly,"  and 
Westover  had  to  profess  relief. 

Jackson  came  in  presently  with  the  little  Canuck, 
whom  Whitwell  presented  to  Westover:  "  Know  Jom- 
bateeste  ? " 

The  two  were  talking  about  a  landslide  which  had 
taken  place  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain ;  the 
news  had  just  come  that  they  had  found  among  the 
ruins  the  body  of  the  farm-hand  who  had  been  missing 
since  the  morning  of  the  slide ;  his  funeral  was  to  be 
the  next  day. 

Jackson  put  his  planchette  on  the  table,  and  sat 
down  before  it  with  a  sigh;  the  Canuck  remained 
standing,  and  on  foot  he  was  scarcely  a  head  higher 
than  the  seated  Yankees.  "  Well,"  Jackson  said,  "  I 
suppose  he  knows  all  about  it  now,"  meaning  the  dead 
farm-hand. 

"  Yes,"  Westover  suggested,  "  if  he  knows  any 
thing." 

"  Know  anything  !  "  Whitwell  shouted.  "  Why, 
man !  Don't  you  believe  he's  as  much  alive  as  ever 
he  was  ? " 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Westover,  submissively. 

"  Don't  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  Not  as  I  know  other  things.  In  fact,  I  don't  know 
it,"  said  Westover,  and  he  was  painfully  aware  of  hav 
ing  shocked  his  hearers  by  the  agnosticism  so  common 
among  men  in  towns  that  he  had  confessed  it  quite 
simply  and  unconsciously.  He  perceived  that  faith 
in  the  soul  and  life  everlasting  was  as  quick  as  ever 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  93 

in  the  hills,  whatever  grotesque  or  unwonted  form  it 
wore.  Jackson  sat  with  closed  eyes,  and  his  head 
fallen  back ;  Whitwell  stared  at  the  painter,  with  open 
mouth;  the  little  Canuck  began  to  walk  up  and  down 
impatiently ;  Westover  felt  a  reproach,  almost  an  ab 
horrence,  in  all  of  them. 

Whitwell  asked,  "  Why,  don't  you  think  there's  any 
proof  of  it  ?  " 

"  Proof  ?  Oh,  yes  !  There's  testimony  enough  to 
carry  conviction  to  the  stubbornest  mind  on  any  other 
point.  But  it's  very  strange  about  all  that.  It  doesn't 
convince  anybody  but  the  witnesses.  If  a  man  tells 
me  he's  seen  a  disembodied  spirit,  I  can't  believe  him. 
I  must  see  the  disembodied  spirit  myself." 

"  That's  something  so,"  said  Whitwell,  with  a  re 
lenting  laugh. 

"  If  one  came  back  from  the  dead,  to  tell  us  of  a 
life  beyond  the  grave,  we  should  want  the  assurance 
that  he'd  really  been  dead,  and  not  merely  dreaming." 

Whitwell  laughed  again,  in  the  delight  the  philo 
sophic  mind  tinds  even  in  the  reasoning  that  baffles  it. 

The  Canuck  felt  perhaps  the  simpler  joy  that  the 
average  man  has  in  any  strange  notion  that  lie  is 
able  to  grasp.  He  stopped  in  his  walk,  and  said, 
"  Yes,  and  if  you  was  dead,  and  went  to  heaven,  and 
stayed  so  long  you  smelt,  like  Lazarus,  and  you  come 
back  and  toP  'em  what  you  saw,  nobody  goin'  believe 
you." 

"  Well,  I  guess  you're  right  there,  Jombateeste," 
said  Whitwell,  with  pleasure  in  the  Canuck's  point. 
After  a  moment  he  suggested  to  Westover,  "  Then  I 


94  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

s'pose  if  you  feel  the  way  you  do,  you  don't  care  much 
about  plantchette  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do,"  said  the  painter.  "  We  never 
know  when  we  may  be  upon  the  point  of  revelation. 
I  wouldn't  miss  any  chance." 

Whether  Whitwell  felt  an  ironic  slant  in  the  words 
or  not,  he  paused  a  moment  before  he  said,  "  Want 
to  start  her  up,  Jackson  ?  " 

Jackson  brought  to  the  floor  the  fore  feet  of  his 
chair,  which  he  had  tilted  from  it  in  leaning  back,  and 
without  other  answer  put  his  hand  on  the  planchette. 
It  began  to  fly  over  the  large  sheet  of  paper  spread 
upon  the  table,  in  curves  and  angles  and  eccentrics. 

"  Feels  pootty  lively  to-night,"  said  Whitwell,  with 
a  glance  at  Westover. 

The  little  Canuck,  as  if  he  had  now  no  further  con 
cern  in  the  matter,  sat  down  in  a  corner  and  smoked 
silently.  Whitwell  asked,  after  a  moment's  impatience, 
"  Can't  you  git  her  down  to  business,  Jackson  ?  " 

Jackson  gasped,  "  She'll  come  down  when  she  wants 
to," 

The  little  instrument  seemed,  in  fact,  trying  to  con 
trol  itself.  Its  movements  became  less  wild  and  lanrc  ; 

^        " 

the  zigzags  began  to  shape  themselves  into  something 
like  characters.  Jackson's  wasted  face  gave  no  token 
of  interest ;  Whitwell  laid  half  his  gaunt  length  across 
the  table  in  the  endeavor  to  make  out  some  meaning 
in  them ;  the  Canuck,  with  his  hands  crossed  on  his 
stomach,  smoked  on,  with  the  same  gleam  in  his  pipe 
and  eye. 

The  planchette  suddenly  stood  motionless. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 


95 


"  She  done  ?  "  murmured  Whitwell. 

"  I  guess  she  is,  for  a  spell,  anyway,"  said  Jackson, 

wearily. 

"  Let's  try  to  make  out  what  she  says."  Whitwell 
drew  the  sheet  towards  himself  and  Westover,  who  sat 
next  him.  "  You've  got  to  look  for  the  letters  every 
where.  Sometimes  she'll  give  you  fair  and  square 
writin',  and  then  again  she'll  slat  the  letters  down  every 
which  way,  and  you've  got  to  hunt  'em  out  for  your 
self.  Here's  a  B  I've  got.  That  begins  along  pretty 
early  in  the  alphabet.  Let's  see  what  we  can  find  next." 

Westover  fancied  he  could  make  out  an  F  and  a  T ; 
Whitwell  exulted  in  an  unmistakable  K  and  N ;  and  he 
made  sure  of  an  R  and  an  E.  The  painter  was  not  so 
sure  of  an  S.  "  Well,  call  it  an  S,"  said  Whitwell. 
"  And  I  guess  I've  got  an  0  here,  and  an  H.  Hello  ! 
Here's  an  A,  as  large  as  life.  Pootty  much  of  a  mixt 


ure. 


"  Yes ;  I  don't  see  that  we're  much  better  off  than 
we  were  before,"  said  Westover. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Whitwell. 
"  Write  'em  down  in  a  row,  and  see  if  we  can't  pick 
out  some  sense.  I've  had  worse  finds  than  this ;  no 
vowels  at  all  sometimes;  but  here's  three." 

He  wrote  the  letters  down,  while  Jackson  leaned 
back  against  the  wall,  in  patient  quiet. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Whitwell,  pushing  the  paper, 
where  he  had  written  the  letters  in  a  line,  to  West- 
over,  "  make  anything  out  of  'em  ?  " 

Westover  struggled  with  them  a  moment.  "  I  can 
make  out  one  word,  shaft." 


96  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"Anything  else?"  demanded  Whitwell,  with  a 
glance  of  triumph  at  Jackson. 

Westover  studied  the  remaining  letters.  "  Yes,  I 
get  one  other  word  :  broken" 

"  Just  what  I  done  !  But  I  wanted  you  to  speak 
first.  It's  Broken  Shaft.  Jackson,  she  caught  right 
on  to  what  we  was  talkin'  about.  This  life,"  he  turned 
to  Westover,  in  solemn  exegesis,  "  is  a  broken  shaft, 
when  death  comes.  It  rests  upon  tke  earth,  but  you 
got  to  look  for  the  top  of  it  in  the  skies.  That's  the 
way  I  look  at  it.  What  do  you  think,  Jackson  ?  Jom- 
bateeste  ? " 

"  Me,  I  think  anybody  can't  see  that,  better  go  and 
get  some  heye-glass." 

Westover  remained  in  a  shameful  minority.  He 
said,  meekly,  "It  suggests  a  beautiful  hope." 

Jackson  brought  his  chair  legs  down  again,  and  put 
his  hand  on  the  planchette. 

"  Feel  that  tinglin'  ?  "  asked  Whitwell,  and  Jackson 
made  yes,  with  silent  lips.  "  After  he's  been  workin' 
the  plantchette  for  a  spell,  and  then  leaves  off,  and  she 
wants  to  say  something  more,"  Whitwell  explained  to 
Westover,  "  he  seems  to  feel  a  kind  of  tinglin'  in  his 
arm,  as  if  it  was  asleep,  and  then  he's  got  to  tackle 
her  again.  .  Writin'  steady  enough,  now,  Jackson !  " 
he  cried,  joyously.  "  Let's  see  !  "  He  leaned  over 
and  read,  "  Thomas  Jefferson—"  The  planchette 
stopped.  "  My,  I  didn't  go  to  do  that,"  said  Whit 
well,  apologetically.  "  You  much  acquainted  with 
Jefferson's  writin's?"  he  asked  of  Westover. 

The  painter  had  to  own  his  ignorance  of  all  except 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  97 

the  dictum  that  the  government  is  best  which  governs 
least;  but  he  was  not  in  a  position  to  deny  that  Jeffer 
son  had  ever  said  anything  about  a  broken  shaft. 

"  It  may  have  come  to  him  on  the  other  side,"  said 
Whitwell. 

"  Perhaps,"  Westover  assented. 

The  planchette  began  to  stir  itself  again.  "  She's 
goin'  ahead  ! "  cried  Whitwell.  He  leaned  over  the 
table  so  as  to  get  every  letter  as  it  was  formed.  "  D — 
Yes !  Death.  Death  is  the  Broken  Shaft.  Go  on  !" 
After  a  moment  of  faltering  the  planchette  formed 
another  letter.  It  was  a  IT,  and  it  was  followed  by  an 
R,  and  so  on,  till  Durgin  had  been  spelled. — "  Thun 
der  !  "  cried  Whitwell.  "  If  anything's  happened  to 
Jeff !  " 

Jackson  lifted  his  hand  from  the  planchette. 

"  Oh,  go  on,  Jackson  !  "  Whitwell  entreated.  "  Don't 
leave  it  so  !  " 

"  I  can't  seem  to  go  on,"  Jackson  whispered,  and 
Westover  could  not  resist  the  fear  that  suddenly  rose 
among  them.  But  he  made  the  first  struggle  against 
it.  "  This  is  nonsense.  Or  if  there's  any  sense  in  it, 
it  means  that  Jeff's  ship  has  broken  her  shaft,  and  put 
back." 

Whitwell  gave  a  loud  laugh  of  relief.  "  That's  so  ! 
You've  hit  it,  Mr.  Westover." 

Jackson  said,  quietly :  "  He  didn't  mean  to  start 
home  till  to-morrow.  And  how  could  he  send  any 
message  unless  he  was — " 

"  Easily !  "  cried  Westover.    "  It's  simply  an  instance 
of  mental  impression — of  telepathy,  as  they  call  it." 
G 


98  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"That's  so/"  shouted  Whitwell,  with  eager  and  in 
stant  conviction. 

Westover  could  see  that  Jackson  still  doubted.  "  If 
you  believe  that  a  disembodied  spirit  can  communicate 
with  you,  why  not  an  embodied  spirit  ?  If  anything 
has  happened  to  your  brother's  ship,  his  mind  would 
be  strongly  on  you  at  home,  and  why  couldn't  it  con 
vey  its  thought  to  you  ? " 

"  Because  he  ha'n't  started  yet,"  said  Jackson. 

Westover  wanted  to  laugh ;  but  they  all  heard  voices 
without,  which  seemed  to  be  coming  nearer,  and  he 
listened  with  the  rest.  He  made  out  Frank  Whitwell's 
voice,  and  his  sister's ;  and  then  another  voice,  louder 
and  gayer,  rose  boisterously  above  them.  Whitwell 
flung  the  door  open  and  plunged  out  into  the  night. 
He  came  back,  hauling  Jeff  Durgin  in  by  the  shoul 
der. 

"Here,  now,"  he  shouted  to  Jackson,  "you  just  let 
this  feller  and  plantchette  fight  it  out  together  !  " 

"What's  the  matter  with  plantchette?"  said  Jeff, 
before  he  said  to  his  brother,  "  Hello,  Jackson,"  and 
to  the  Canuck,  "  Hello,  Jombateeste."  He  shook 
hands  conventionally  with  them  both,  and  then  with 
the  painter,  whom  he  greeted  with  greater  interest. 
"  Glad  to  see  yow,  here,  Mr.  Westover.  Did  1  take 
you  by  surprise  ? "  he  asked  of  the  company  at  large. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Whitwell.  "  Didn't  surprise  us  any 
if  you  are  a  fortnight  ahead  of  time,"  he  added,  with 
a  wink  at  the  others. 

"  Well,  I  took  a  notion  I  wouldn't  wait  for  the  cat 
tle-ship,  and  I  started  back  on  a  French  boat.  Thought 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  99 

I'd  try  it.  They  live  well.  But  I  hoped  I  should 
astonish  you  a  little,  too.  I  might  as  well  waited." 

Whitwell  laughed.  "  We  heard  from  you — plant- 
chette  kept  right  round  after  you." 

"  That  so  ?  "  asked  Jeff,  carelessly. 

"  Fact.  Have  a  good  voyage  ? "  Whitwell  had  the 
air  of  putting  a  casual  question. 

"  First  rate,"  said  Jeff.     "  Plantchette  say  not  ? " 

"  No.     Only  about  the  broken  shaft." 

"  Broken  shaft  ?  We  didn't  have  any  broken  shaft ! 
Plantchette's  got  mixed  a  little.  Got  the  wrong  ship." 

After  a  moment  of  chopfallenness,  Whitwell  said : 
"  Then  somebody  been  makin'  free  with  your  name. 
Curious  how  them  devils  cut  up  oftentimes." 

He  explained,  and  Jeff  laughed  uproariously,  when 
he  understood  the  whole  case.  "  Plantchette's  been 
havin'  fun  with  you." 

Whitwell  gave  himself  time  for  reflection.  "  No, 
sir,  I  don't  look  at  it  that  way.  I  guess  the  wires  got 
crossed,  some  way.  If  there's  such  a  thing  as  the 
spirits  o'  the  livin'  influencin'  plantchette,  accordin'  to 
Mr.  Westover's  say,  here,  I  don't  see  why  it  wa'n't 
Jeff's  being  so  near  that  got  control  of  her,  and  made 
her  sign  his  name  to  somebody  else's  words.  It  shows 
there's  something  in  it." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  to  come  back  alive,  anyway,"  said 
Jeff,  with  a  joviality  new  to  Westover.  "  I  tell  you, 
there  a'n't  many  places  finer  than  old  Lion's  Head, 
after  all.  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Westover  ?  I  want 
to  get  the  daylight  on  it,  but  it  does  well  by  moon 
light,  even."  He  looked  round  at  the  tall  girl,  who 


100  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

had  been  lingering  to  hear  the  talk  of  planchcttc ;  at 
the  backward  tilt  he  gave  his  head,  to  get  her  in  range, 
she  frowned  as  if  she  felt  his  words  a  betrayal,  and 
slipped  out  of  the  room  ;  the  boy  had  already  gone,  and 
was  making  himself  heard  in  the  low  room  overhead. 
"There's  a  lot  of  folks  here,  this  summer,  mother 
says,"  he  appealed  from  the  check  he  had  got  to  Jack 
son.  "  Every  room  taken,  for  the  whole  month,  she 
says." 

"  We've  been  pretty  full  all  July,  too,"  said  Jack 
son,  blankly. 

"  Well,  it's  a  great  business ;  and  I've  picked  up  a 
lot  of  hints,  over  there.  We're  not  so  smart  as  we 
think  we  are.  The  Swiss  can  teach  us  a  thing  or  two. 
They  know  how  to  keep  a  hotel." 

"  Go  to  Switzerland  ?  "  asked  Whitwcll. 
"  I  slipped  over  into  the  edge  of  it." 
"  I  want  to  know  !     Well,  now  them  Alps,  now : 
they  so  much  bigger'n  the  White  Hills,  after  all  ? " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  about  all  of  'em,"  said  Jeff. 
"  There  may  be  some  that  would  compare  with  our 
hills,  but  I  should  say  that  you  could  take  Mount 
Washington  up  and  set  it  in  the  lap  of  almost  any  one 
of  the  Alps  I  saw,  and  it  would  look  like  a  baby  on 
its  mother's  knee." 

"  I  want  to  know  !  "  said  Whitwell  again.  His  tone 
expressed  disappointment,  but  impartiality ;  he  would 
do  justice  to  foreign  superiority  if  he  must.  "  And 
about  the  ocean.  What  about  waves  runnin'  mountains 
high?" 

"  Well,  we  didn't  have  it  very  rough.     But  I  don't 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  101 

believe  I  saw  any  waves  much  higher  than  Lion's 
Head."  Jeff  laughed  to  find  Whitwell  taking  him 
seriously.  "  Won't  that  satisfy  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  it  satisfies  me.  Truth  always  does.  But,  now, 
about  London.  You  didn't  seem  to  say  so  much  about 
London  in  your  letters,  now.  Is  it  so  big  as  they  let 
on  ?  Big,  that  is,  to  the  naked  eye,  as  you  may  say  ?  " 

"  There  a'n't  any  one  place  where  you  can  get  a  com 
plete  bird's-eye  view  of  it,"  said  Jeff,  "  and  two-thirds 
of  it  would  be  hid  in  smoke,  anyway.  You've  got  to 
think  of  a  place  that  would  take  in  the  whole  popula 
tion  of  New  England,  outside  of  Massachusetts,  and 
not  feel  as  if  it  had  more 'than  a  comfortable  meal." 
Whitwell  laughed  for  joy  in  the  bold  figure.  "I'll 
tell  you  !  When  you've  landed  and  crossed  up  from 
Liverpool,  and  struck  London,  you  feel  as  if  you'd  gone 
to  sea  again.  It's  an  ocean :  a  whole  Atlantic  of  houses." 

"That's  right!"  crowed  Whitwell.  "That's  the 
way  I  thought  it  was.  Growin'  any  ? " 

Jeff  hesitated.  "It  grows  in  the  night.  You've 
heard  about  Chicago  growing  ? " 

"  Yes ! " 

"  Well,  London  grows  a  whole  Chicago  every  night." 

"  Good  ! "  said  Whitwell.  "  That  suits  me.  And 
about  Paris,  now.  Paris  strike  you  the  same  way  ? " 

"It  don't  need  to,"  said  Jeff.  "That's  a  place 
where  I'd  like  to  live.  Everybody's  at  home,  there. 
It's  a  man's  house  and  his  front  yard,  and  I  tell  you 
they  keep  it  clean.  Paris  is  washed  down  every  morn 
ing;  scrubbed  and  mopped  and  rubbed  dry.  You 
couldn't  find  any  more  dirt  than  you  could  in  mother's 


102  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

kitchen  after  she's  hung  out  her  wash.     That  so,  Mr. 
Westover  ? " 

Westover  confirmed  in  general  Jeff's  report  of  the 
cleanliness  of  Paris. 

"And  beautiful!  You  don't  know  what  a  good- 
looking  town  is  till  you  strike  Paris.  And  they're 
proud  of  it,  too  !  Every  man  acts  as  if  he  owned  it. 
They've  had  the  statue  of  Alsace — in  that  Place  de  la 
Concorde  of  yours,  Mr.  Whitwell,  where  they  had  the 
guillotine — all  draped  in  black,  ever  since  the  war 
with  Germany  ;  and  they  mean  to  have  her  back,  some 
day." 

"  Great  country,  Jombateeste ! "  Whitwell  shouted  to 
the  Canuck. 

The  little  man  roused  himself  from  the  muse  in 
which  he  was  listening  and  smoking.  "Me,  I'm 
Frantsh,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  that's  what  Jeff  was  sayin',"  said  Whitwell. 
"  I  meant  France." 

"Oh,"  answered  Jombateeste  impatiently,  "I 
thought  you  mean  the  Hunited  State." 

"  Well,  not  this  time,"  said  Whitwell  amid  the  gen 
eral  laughter. 

"  Good  for  Jombateeste,"  said  Jeff.  "  Stand  up  for 
Canada  every  time,  John.  It's  the  livest  country  in 
the  world,  three  months  of  the  year  and  the  ice  keeps 
it  perfectly  sweet  the  other  nine." 

Whitwell  could  not  brook  a  diversion  from  the  high 
and  serious  inquiry  they  had  entered  upon.  "  It  must 
have  made  this  country  look  pretty  slim,  when  you  got 
back.  How'd  New  York  look,  after  Paris  ?  " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  103 

"  Like  a  pig-pen,"  said  Jeff.  He  left  liis  chair,  and 
walked  round  the  table  towards  a  door  opening  into 
the  adjoining  room.  For  the  first  time  Westover  no 
ticed  a  figure  in  white  seated  there,  and  apparently 
rapt  in  the  talk  which  had  been  going  on.  At  the 
approach  of  Jeff,  and  before  he  could  have  made 
himself  seen  at  the  doorway,  a  tremor  seemed  to 
pass  over  the  figure ;  it  fluttered  to  its  feet,  and  then  it 
vanished  into  the  farther  dark  of  the  room.  When 
Jeff  disappeared  within,  there  was  a  sound  of  rustling 
skirts  and  skurrying  feet  and  the  crash  of  a  closing 
door,  and  then  the  free  rise  of  laughing  voices  with 
out.  After  a  discreet  interval  Westover  said :  "  Mr. 
Whitwell,  I  must  say  good-night.  I've  got  another 
day's  work  before  me.  It's  been  a  most  interesting 


evening." 


"  Yon  must  try  it  again,"  said  Whitwell,  hospitably. 
"  We  ha'n't  got  to  the  bottom  of  that  broken  shaft 
yet.  You'll  see  't  plantchette  '11  have  something  more 
to  say  about  it.  Heigh,  Jackson  ? "  He  rose  to  re 
ceive  Westover's  good-night ;  the  others  nodded  to 
him. 

As  the  painter  climbed  the  hill  to  the  hotel  he  saw 
two  figures  on  the  road  below ;  the  one  in  white  dra 
pery  looked  severed  by  a  dark  line  slanting  across  it 
at  the  waist.  In  the  country,  he  knew,  such  an  ap 
pearance  might  mark  the  earliest  stages  of  love-mak 
ing,  or  mere  youthful  tenderness,  in  which  there  was 
nothing  more  implied  or  expected.  But  whatever  the 
fact  was,  Westover  felt  a  vague  distaste  for  it,  which, 
as  it  related  itself  to  a  more  serious  possibility,  deep- 


104  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

cncd  to  something  like  pain.  It  was  probable  that  it 
should  come  to  this  between  those  two,  but  Westover 
rebelled  against  the  event  with  a  sense  of  its  unfitness 
for  which  he  could  not  give  himself  any  valid  reason ; 
and  in  the  end  he  accused  himself  of  being  a  fool. 


XV. 

Two  ladies  sat  on  the  veranda  of  the  hotel,  and 
watched  a  cloud-wreath  trying  to  lift  itself  from  the 
summit  of  Lion's  Head.  In  the  effort  it  thinned  away 
to  transparency  in  places ;  in  others  it  tore  its  frail 
texture  asunder,  and  let  parts  of  the  mountain  show 
through ;  then  the  fragments  knitted  themselves  loosely 
together,  and  the  vapor  lay  again  in  dreamy  quiescence. 

The  ladies  were  older  and  younger,  and  apparently 
mother  and  daughter.  The  mother  had  kept  her  youth 
in  face  and  figure  so  admirably  that  in  another  light 
she  would  have  looked  scarcely  the  elder.  It  was  the 
candor  of  the  morning  which  confessed  the  fine  verti 
cal  lines  running  up  and  down  to  her  lips,  only  a  shade 
paler  than  the  girl's,  and  that  showed  her  hair  a  trifle 
thinner  in  its  coppery  brown,  her  blue  eyes  a  little 
dimmer.  They  were  both  very  graceful,  and  they  had 
soft,  caressing  voices ;  they  now  began  to  talk  very 
politely  to  each  other,  as  if  they  were  strangers,  or  as 
if  strangers  were  by.  They  talked  of  the  landscape, 
and  of  the  strange  cloud  effect  before  them.  They 
said  that  they  supposed  they  should  see  the  Lion's 
Head  when  the  cloud  lifted,  and  they  were  both  sure 


106  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

they  had  never  been  quite  so  near  a  cloud  before. 
They  agreed  that  this  was  because  in  Switzerland  the 
mountains  were  so  much  higher  and  farther  off.  Then 
the  daughter  said,  without  changing  the  direction  of 
her  eyes  or  the  tone  of  her  voice,  "  The  gentleman 
who  came  over  from  the  station  with  us  last  night," 
and  the  mother  was  aware  of  Jeff  Durgin  advancino- 
towards  the  corner  of  the  veranda  where  they  sat. 

"I  hope  you  have  got  rested,"  he  said,  with  the 
jovial  bluntness  which  was  characteristic  of  him  with 
women. 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  said  the  elder  lady.  Jeff  had 
spoken  to  her,  but  had  looked  chiefly  at  the  younger. 
"  I  slept  beautifully.  So  quiet  here,  and  with  this 
delicious  air  !  Have  you  just  tasted  it  ? " 

"  No ;  I've  been  up  ever  since  daylight,  driving 
round,"  said  Jeff.  "  I'm  glad  you  like  the  air,"  he 
said,  after  a  certain  hesitation.  "  We  always  want  to 
have  people  do  that  at  Lion's  Head.  There's  no  air 
like  it,  though  perhaps  I  shouldn't  say  so." 

"  Shouldn't?  "  the  lady  repeated. 

"Yes;  we  own  the  air  here,  this  part  of  it."  Jeff 
smiled  easily  down  at  the  lady's  puzzled  face. 

"  Oh  !    Then  you  are — are  you  a  son  of  the  house  ? " 

"  Son  of  the  hotel,  yes,"  said  Jeff,  with  increasing 
ease.  The  lady  continued  her  question  in  a  look,  and 
he  went  on :  "  I've  been  scouring  the  country  for  but 
ter  and  eggs  this  morning.  We  shall  get  all  our  sup 
plies  from  Boston  next  year,  I  hope,  but  we  depend 
on  the  neighbors,  a  little,  yet." 

"  How  very  interesting,"  said  the  lady.    "  You  must 


THE    LANDLOHD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  107 

have  a  great  many  queer  adventures,"  she  suggested 
in  a  provisional  tone. 

"  Well,  nothing's  queer  to  me  in  the  hill  country. 
But  you  see  some  characters  here."  He  nodded  over 
his  shoulder  to  where  Whitwell  stood  by  the  flag-staff, 
waiting  the  morning  impulse  of  the  ladies.  "  There's 
one  of  the  greatest  of  them,  now." 

The  lady  put  up  a  lorgnette  and  inspected  Whit- 
well.  "  What  are  those  strange  things  he  has  got  in 
his  hat-band  ? " 

"The  flowers  and  the  fungi  of  the  season,"  said 
Jeff.  "  He  takes  parties  of  the  ladies  walking,  and 
that  collection  is  what  he  calls  his  almanac." 

"  Really  ?  "  cried  the  girl.      "  That's  charming  !  " 

"  Delightful !  "  said  the  mother,  moved  by  the  same 
impulse,  apparently. 

"Yes,"  said  Jeff.  "You  ought  to  hear  him  talk. 
I'll  introduce  him  to  you  after  breakfast,  if  you  like." 

"  Oh,  we  should  only  be  too  happy  ! "  said  the 
mother,  and  her  daughter,  from  her  inflection,  knew 
that  she  would  be  willing  to  defer  her  happiness. 

But  Jeff  did  not.  "  Mr.  Whitwell !  "  he  called  out, 
and  Whitwell  came  across  the  grass  to  the  edge  of  the 
veranda.  "  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  Mrs.  Vostrand 
— and  Miss  Vostrand." 

Whitwell  took  their  slim  hands  successively  into  his 
broad,  flat  palm,  and  made  Mrs.  Vostrand  repeat  her 
name  to  him.  "  Strangers  at  Lion's  Head,  I  pre 
sume?"  Mrs.  Vostrand  owned  as  much;  and  he 
added :  "  Well,  I  guess  you  won't  find  a  much  sightlier 
place  anywhere ;  though  accordin'  to  Jeff's  say,  here, 


108  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

they've  got  bigger  mountains  on  tlie  other  side.      Ever 
been  in  Europe  ? " 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Yostrand,  with  a  little 
mouth  of  deprecation.  "In  fact,  we've  just  come 
home  !  We've  been  living  there." 

"That  so?"  returned  Whitwel],  in  humorous  toler 
ation.  "  Glad  to  get  back,  I  presume  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes — yes,"  said  Mrs.  Vostrand,  in  a  sort  of 
willowy  concession,  as  if  the  character  before  her  were 
not  to  be  crossed  or  gainsaid. 

'"Well,  it'll  do  you  good  here,"  said  Whitwell. 
"  'N'  the  young  lady,  too.  A  few  tramps  over  these 
hills  '11  make  you  look  like  another  woman."  He  added, 
as  if  he  had  perhaps  made  his  remarks  too  personal 
to  the  girl,  "  Both  of  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  the  mother  assented  fervently.  "  We  shall 
count  upon  your  showing  us  all  their — mysteries." 

Whitwell  looked  pleased.  "  I'll  do  my  best — when 
ever  you're  ready."  He  went  on  :  "  Why,  Jeff,  here, 
has  just  got  back,  too.  Jeff,  what  was  the  name  of 
that  French  boat  you  said  you  crossed  on  ?  I  want  to 
see  if  I  can't  make  out  what  plantchette  me-ant  by  that 
broken  shaft.  She  must  have  meant  something,  and 
if  I  could  find  out  the  name  of  the  ship —  Tell  the 
ladies  about  it  ? "  Jeff  laughed,  with  a  shake  of  the 
head,  and  Whitwell  continued,  "  Why,  it  was  like 
this,"  and  he  possessed  the  ladies  of  a  fact  which  they 
professed  to  find  extremely  interesting.  At  the  end 
of  their  polite  expressions,  he  asked  Jeff  again,  "  What 
did  you  say  the  name  was  ? " 
"Acquitaine"  said  Jeff  briefly. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  109 

"  Why,  we  came  on  the  Acquitaine  !  "  said  Mrs.  Vos- 
trand,  with  a  smile  for  Jeff.  "  But  how  did  we  hap 
pen  not  to  see  each  other  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  came  second-cabin,"  said  Jeff.  "  I  worked 
my  way  over  on  a  cattle-ship  to  London,  and  when  I 
decided  not  to  work  my  way  back,  I  found  I  hadn't 
enough  money  for  a  first-cabin  passage.  I  was  in  a 
hurry  to  get  back  in  time  to  get  settled  at  Harvard, 
and  so  I  came  second-cabin.  It  wasn't  bad.  I  used 
to  see  you  across  the  rail." 

"  Well !  "  said  Whitwell. 

"How  very — amusing!"  said  Mrs.  Vostrand. 
"What  a  small  world  it  is."  Witli  these  words  she 
fell  into  a  vagary  ;  her  daughter  recalled  her  from  it 
with  a  slight  movement,  u Breakfast?  How  impa 
tient  you  are,  Genevieve  !  Well ! "  She  smiled  the 
sweetest  parting  to  Whitwell,  and  suffered  herself  to 
be  led  away  by  Jeff. 

"  And  you're  at  Harvard  !  I'm  so  interested.  My 
own  boy  will  be  going  there  soon." 

"Well,  there's  no  place  like  Harvard,"  said  Jeff. 
"  I'm  in  my  Sophomore  year,  now." 

"  Oh,  a  Sophomore  !  Fancy  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Vostrand, 
as  if  nothing  could  give  her  more  pleasure.  "  My  son 
is  going  to  prepare  at  St.  Mark's.  Did  you  prepare 
there?" 

"  No,  I  prepared  at  Lovcwell  Academy,  over  here." 
Jeff  nodded  in  a  southerly  direction. 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  "  said  Mrs.  Vostrand,  as  if  she  knew 
where  Lovewell  was,  and  instantly  recognized  the 
name  of  the  ancient  school. 


110  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

They  had  reached  the  dining-room,  and  Jeff  pushed 
the  screen-door  open  with  one  hand,  and  followed  the 
ladies  in.  He  had  the  effect  of  welcoming  them  like 
invited  guests ;  he  placed  the  ladies  himself  at  a  win 
dow,  where  he  said  Mrs.  Vostrand  would  be  out  of  the 
draughts,  and  they  could  have  a  good  view  of  Lion's 
Head.  He  leaned  over  between  them,  when  they  were 
seated,  to  get  sight  of  the  mountain,  and  "  There ! " 
he  said.  "  That  cloud's  gone  at  last."  Then,  as  if  it 
would  be  modester  in  the  proprietor  of  the  view  to 
leave  them  to  their  flattering  raptures  in  it,  he  moved 
away,  and  stood  talking  a  moment  with  Cynthia  Whit- 
well  near  the  door  of  the  serving-room.  He  talked 
gayly,  with  many  tosses  of  the  head  and  turns  about, 
while  she  listened  with  a  vague  smile  motionlessly. 

"  She's  very  pretty,"  said  Miss  Vostrand  to  her  mo 
ther. 

"Yes.  The  New  England  type,"  murmured  the 
mother. 

"  They  all  b|f,ve  the  same  look,  a  good  deal,"  said 
the  girl,  glancing  over  the  room  where  the  waitresses 
stood  ranged  against  the  wall  with  their  hands  folded 
at  their  waists.  "  They  have  better  faces  than  figures, 
but  she  is  beautiful  every  way.  Do  you  suppose  they 
are  all  school-teachers  ?  They  look  intellectual.  Or 
is  it  their  glasses  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  mother.  "  They  used  to 
be ;  but  things  change  here  so  rapidly,  it  may  all  be 
different.  Do  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  it's  charming  here,"  said  the  younger  lady, 
evasively.  "  Everything  is  so  exquisitely  clean.  And 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  Ill 

the  food  is  very  good.  Is  this  corn-bread — that  you've 
told  me  about  so  much  ?  " 

"  Yes,  this  is  corn-bread.  You  will  have  to  get  ac 
customed  to  it." 

"  Perhaps  it  won't  take  long.  I  could  fancy  that 
girl  knowing  about  everything.  Don't  you  like  her 

looks?" 

"  Oh,  very  much  ! "  Mrs.  Vostrand  turned  for  an 
other  glance  at  Cynthia. 

"  What  say  ?  "  Their  smiling  waitress  came  for 
ward  from  the  wall  where  she  was  leaning,  as  if  she 
thought  they  had  spoken  to  her. 

"  Oh,  we  were  speaking — the  young  lady  to  whom 
Mr.  Durgin  was  talking — she  is — 

"  She's  the  housekeeper — Miss  Whitwell." 

"  Oh,  indeed !    She  seems  so  young— 

"  I  guess  she  knows  what  to  do-o-o,"  the  waitress 
chanted.  "  We  think  she's  about  ri-i-ght !  "  She 
smiled  tolerantly  upon  the  misgiving  of  the  stranger, 
if  it  was  that,  and  then  retreated  when  the  mother  and 
daughter  began  talking  together  again. 

They  had  praised  the  mountain  with  the  cloud  off, 
to  Jeff,  very  politely,  and  now  the  mother  said,  a  little 
more  intimately,  but  still  with  the  deference  of  a  so 
ciety  acquaintance,  "  He  seems  very  gentlemanly,  and 
I  am  sure  he  is  very  kind.  I  don't  quite  know  what 
to  do  about  it,  do  you?" 

"  No,  I  don't.     It's  all  strange  to  me,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  it  must  be.  But  you  will  get  used 
to  it  if  we  remain  in  the  country.  Do  you  think  you 
will  dislike  it «  " 


112  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Oh,  no  !     It's  very  different." 

"Yes,  it's  different.  He  is  very  handsome,  in  a 
certain  way."  The  daughter  said  nothing,  and  the 
mother  added,  "  I  wonder  if  he  was  trying  to  conceal 
that  he  had  come  second-cabin,  and  was  not  going  to 
let  us  know  that  he  crossed  with  us  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  he  was  bound  to  do  so  ? " 

"  No.  But  it  was  very  odd,  his  not  mentioning  it. 
And  his  going  out  on  a  cattle-steamer,"  the  mother 
observed. 

"  Oh,  but  that's  very  chic,  I've  heard,"  the  daughter 
replied.  "  I've  heard  that  the  young  men  like  it,  and 
think  it  a  great  chance.  They  have  great  fun.  It  isn't 
at  all  like  second-cabin." 

"  You  young  people  have  your  own  world,"  the 
mother  answered,  caressingly. 


XVI. 

WESTOVER  met  the  ladies  coming  out  of  the  dining- 
room  as  he  went  in  rather  late  to  breakfast ;  he  had 
been  making  a  study  of  Lion's  Head  in  the  morning 
light  after  the  cloud  lifted  from  it.  He  was  always 
doing  Lion's  Heads,  it  seemed  to  him ;  but  he  loved 
the  mountain  and  he  was  always  finding  something 
new  in  it. 

He  was  now  seeing  it  inwardly  with  so  exclusive  a 
vision  that  he  had  no  eyes  for  these  extremely  pretty 
women  till  they  were  out  of  sight.  Then  he  remem 
bered  noticing  them,  and  started  with  a  sense  of  rec 
ognition,  which  he  verified  by  the  hotel  register  when 
he  had  finished  his  meal.  It  was  in  fact  Mrs.  James 
W.  Vnstrand,  and  it  was  Miss  Vostrand,  whom  West- 
over  had  known  ten  years  before  in  Italy.  Mrs.  Vos 
trand  had  then  lately  come  abroad  for  the  education 
of  her  children,  and  was  pausing  in  doubt  at  Florence 
whether  she  should  educate  them  in  Germany  or  Switz 
erland.  Her  husband  had  apparently  abandoned  this 
question  to  her,  and  he  did  not  contribute  his  presence 
to  her  moral  support  during  her  struggle  with  a  prob 
lem  which  Westover  remembered  as  having  a  tendency 
II 


114  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

to  solution  in  the  direction  of  a  permanent  stay  in 
Florence. 

In  those  days  he  liked  Mrs.  Vostrand  very  much, 
and  at  twenty  he  considered  her  at  thirty  distinctly 
middle-aged.  For  one  winter  she  had  a  friendly  little 
salon,  which  was  the  most  attractive  place  in  Florence 
to  him,  then  a  cub  painter  sufficiently  unlicked.  He 
was  aware  of  her  children  being  a  good  deal  in  the 
salon :  a  girl  of  eight  who  was  like  her  mother,  and 
quite  a  savage  little  boy  of  five,  who  may  have  been 
like  his  father.  If  he  was,  and  the  absent  Mr.  Vos 
trand  had  the  same  habit  of  sulking  and  kicking  at 
people's  shins,  Westover  could  partly  understand  why 
Mrs.  Vostrand  had  come  to  Europe  for  the  education 
of  her  children.  It  all  came  vividly  back  to  him,  while 
he  went  about  looking  for  Mrs.  Vostrand  and  her 
daughter  on  the  verandas  and  in  the  parlors.  But  he 
did  not  find  them,  and  he  was  going  to  send  his  name 
to  their  rooms  when  he  came  upon  Jeff  Durgin  figur 
ing  about  the  office  in  a  fresh  London  conception  of 
an  outing  costume. 

"  You're  very  swell,"  said  Westover,  halting  him  to 
take  full  note  of  it. 

"  Like  it?  Well,  I  knew  you'd  understand  what  it 
meant.  Mother  thinks  it's  a  little  too  rowdy-looking. 
Her  idea  is  black  broadcloth  frock-coat  and  doeskin 
trousers,  for  a  gentleman,  you  know."  He  laughed 
with  a  young  joyousness ;  and  then  became  serious. 
"  Couple  of  ladies  here,  somewhere,  I'd  like  to  intro 
duce  you  to.  Came  over  with  me  from  the  depot 
last  night.  Very  nice  people,  and  I'd  like  to  make  it 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  115 

pleasant  for  them — get  up  something — go  somewhere, 
and  when  you  see  their  style  you  can  judge  what  it 
had  better  be.  Mrs.  Vostrand  and  her  daughter." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Westover.  "  I  think  I  know 
them  already — at  least  one  of  them.  I  used  to  go  to 
Mrs.  Vostrand's  house  in  Florence." 

"  That  so  ?  Well,  fact  is,  I  crossed  with  them;  but 
I  came  second-cabin,  because  I'd  spent  all  my  money, 
and  I  didn't  get  acquainted  with  them  on  the  ship, 
but  we  met  in  the  train  coming  up,  last  night.  Said 
they  had  heard  of  Lion's  Head  on  the  other  side  from 
friends.  But  it  was  quite  a  coincidence,  don't  you 
think  !  I'd  like  to  have  them  see  what  this  neighbor 
hood  really  is;  and  I  wish,  Mr.  Westover,  you'd  find 
out,  if  you  can,  what  they'd  like.  If  they're  for  walk 
ing,  we  could  get  Whitwell  to  personally  conduct  a 
party,  and  if  they're  for  driving,  I'd  like  to  show  them 
a  little  mountain-coaching  myself." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I'd  better  not  leave  the 
whole  thing  to  you,  Jeff,"  Westover  said,  after  a  mo 
ment's  reflection.  "  I  don't  see  exactly  how  I  could 
bring  the  question  into  a  first  interview." 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  would  be  rather  rushing  it.  But 
if  I  get  up  something,  you'll  come,  Mr.  Westover  ? " 

"  I  will,  with  great  pleasure,"  said  Westover,  and 
he  went  to  make  his  call. 

A  half-hour  later  he  was  passing  the  door  of  the 
old  parlor  which  Mrs.  Durgin  still  kept  for  hers,  on 
his  way  up  to  his  room,  when  a  sound  of  angry  voices 
came  out  to  him.  Then  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Durgin  de 
fined  itself  in  the  words :  "  I'm  not  goin'  to  have  to 


116  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

ask  any  more  folks  for  their  rooms  on  your  account, 
Jeff  Durgin —  Mr.  Westover  !  Mr.  Westover,  is  that 
you  ? "  her  voice  broke  off  to  call  after  him  as  he  hur 
ried  by.  "  Won't  you  come  in  here,  a  minute  ? " 

He  hesitated,  and  then  Jeff  called,  "  Yes,  come  in, 
Mr.  Westover." 

The  painter  found  him  sitting  on  the  old  hair-cloth 
sofa,  with  his  stick  between  his  hands  and  knees,  con 
fronting  his  mother,  who  was  rocking  excitedly  to  and 
fro  in  the  old  hair-cloth  easy-chair. 

"  You  know  these  folks  that  Jeff's  so  crazy  about  ? " 
she  demanded. 

"  Crazy  !  "  cried  Jeff,  laughing  and  frowning  at  the 
same  time.  "  What's  crazy  in  wanting  to  go  off  on  a 
drive,  and  choose  your  own  party  ? " 

"Do  you  know  them?"  Mrs.  Durgin  repeated  to 
Westover. 

"  The  Vostrands  ?  Why,  yes.  I  knew  Mrs.  Vos- 
trand  in  Italy  a  good  many  years  ago,  and  I've  just 
been  calling  on  her  and  her  daughter,  who  was  a  little 
girl,  then." 

"  What  kind  of  folks  are  they  ?  " 
"  What  kind  ?     Really  !    Why,  they're  very  charm 
ing  people — " 

"  So  Jeff  seems  to  think.  Any  call  to  show  them 
any  particular  attention  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  if  I  quite  understand — " 

"  Why,  it's  just  this.     Jeff,  here,  wants  to  make  a 

picnic  for   them,  or  something,  and  I  can't  see  the 

sense  of  it.     You  remember  what  happened  at  that 

other  picnic,  with  that  Mrs.  Marven  " — Jeff  tapped  the 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  117 

floor  with  his  stick,  impatiently,  and  Westover  felt 
sorry  for  him — "  and  I  don't  want  it  to  happen  again, 
and  I've  told  Jeff  so.  I  presume  he  thinks  it'll  set 
him  right  with  them,  if  they're  thinkin'  demeaning  of 
him  because  he  came  over  second-cabin  on  their  ship." 

Jeff  set  his  teeth  and  compressed  his  lips  to  bear  as 
best  he  could  the  give-away  which  his  mother  could 
not  appreciate  in  its  importance  to  him. 

"They're  not  the  kind  of  people  to  take  such  a 
thing  shabbily,"  said  Westover.  "  They  didn't  happen 
to  mention  it,  but  Mrs.  Yostrand  must  have  got  used 
to  seeing  young  fellows  in  straits  of  all  kinds  during 
her  life  abroad.  I  know  that  I  sometimes  made  the 
cup  of  tea  and  biscuit  she  used  to  give  me  in  Florence 
do  duty  for  a  dinner,  and  I  believe  she  knew  it." 

Jeff  looked  up  at  Westover  with  a  grateful,  side 
long  glance. 

His  mother  said,  "  Well,  then,  that's  all  right,  and 
Jeff  needn't  do  anything  for  them  on  that  account. 
And  I've  made  up  my  mind  about  one  thing  :  whatever 
the  hotel  does  has  got  to  be  done  for  the  whole  hotel. 
It  can't  pick  and  choose  amongst  the  guests."  West- 
over  liked  so  little  the  part  of  old  family  friend  which 
he  seemed,  whether  he  liked  it  or  not,  to  bear  with 
the  Durgins,  that  he  would  gladly  have  got  away  now, 
but  Mrs.  Durgin  detained  him  with  a  direct  appeal. 
"  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Westover  ? " 

Jeff  spared  him  the  pain  of  a  response.  "  Very 
well,"  he  said  to  his  mother,  "  I'm  not  the  hotel,  and 
you  never  want  me  to  be.  I  can  do  this  on  my  own 
account." 


118  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Not  with  my  coach  and  not  with  my  hosses,"  said 
his  mother. 

Jeff  rose.  "  I  might  as  well  go  on  down  to  Cam 
bridge,  and  get  to  work  on  my  conditions." 

"  Just  as  you  please  about  that,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin, 
with  the  same  impassioned  quiet  that  showed  in  her 
son's  handsome  face  and  made  it  one  angry  red  to  his 
yellow  hair.  "  We've  got  along  without  you  so  far, 
this  summer,  and  I  guess  we  can  the  rest  of  the  time. 
And  the  sooner  you  work  off  your  conditions  the 
better,  I  presume." 

The  next  morning  Jeff  came  to  take  leave  of  him, 
where  Westover  had  pitched  his  easel  and  camp-stool 
on  the  slope  behind  the  hotel. 

"  Why,  are  you  really  going  ? "  he  asked.  "  I  was 
in  hopes  it  might  have  blown  over." 

"  No,  things  don't  blow  over  so  easy  with  mother," 
said  Jeff,  with  an  embarrassed  laugh,  but  no  resent 
ment.  "  She  generally  means  what  she  says." 

"  Well,  in  this  case,  Jeff,  I  think  she  was  right." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  so,"  said  Jeff,  pulling  up  a  long  blade 
of  grass,  and  taking  it  between  his  teeth.  "  Anyway, 
it  comes  to  the  same  thing  as  far  as  I'm  concerned. 
It's  for  her  to  say  what  shall  be  done  and  what  sha'n't 
be  done  in  her  own  house,  even  if  it  is  a  hotel.  That's 
what  I  shall  do  in  mine.  We're  used  to  these  little 
differences ;  but  we  talk  it  out,  and  that's  the  end  of 
it.  I  shouldn't  really  go,  though,  if  I  didn't  think  I 
ought  to  get  in  some  work  on  those  conditions  before 
the  thing  begins  regularly.  I  should  have  liked  to 
help  here  a  little,  for  I've  had  a  good  time  and  I  ought 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  119 

to  be  willing  to  pay  for  it.  But  she's  in  good  hands. 
Jackson's  well — for  him — and  she's  got  Cynthia." 

The  easy  security  of  tone  with  which  Jeff  pronounced 
the  name  vexed  Westover.  "  I  suppose  your  mother 
would  hardly  know  how  to  do  without  her,  even  if  you 
were  at  home,"  he  said,  dryly. 

"  Well,  that's  a  fact,"  Jeff  assented,  with  a  laugh 
for  the  hit.  "And  Jackson  thinks  the  world  of  her. 
I  believe  he  trusts  her  judgment  more  than  he  does 
mother's  about  the  hotel.  Well,  I  must  be  going. 
You  don't  know  where  Mrs.  Vostrand  is  going  to  be 
this  winter,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  Westover.  He  could  not  help 
a  sort  of  blind  resentment  in  the  situation.  If  he 
could  not  feel  that  Jeff  was  the  best  that  could  be  for 
Cynthia,  he  had  certainly  no  reason  to  regret  that  his 
thoughts  could  be  so  lightly  turned  from  her.  But 
the  fact  anomalously  incensed  him  as  a  slight  to  the 
girl,  who  might  have  been  still  more  sacrificed  by 
Jeff's  constancy.  He  forced  himself  to  add,  u  I  fancy 
Mrs.  Vostrand  doesn't  know  herself." 

"  I  wish  I  didn't  know  where  /  was  going  to  be," 
said  Jeff.  "  Well,  good-by,  Mr.  Westover.  I'll  see 
you  in  Boston." 

"  Oh,  good-by."  The  painter  freed  himself  from 
his  brush  and  palette  for  a  parting  handshake,  reluc 
tantly. 

Jeff  plunged  down  the  hill,  waving  a  final  adieu 
from  the  corner  of  the  hotel  before  he  vanished  round 
it. 

Mrs.  Vostrand  and  her  daughter  were  at  breakfast 


120  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

when  Wcstover  came  in  after  the  early  light  had  been 
gone  some  time.  They  entreated  him  to  join  them  at 
their  table,  and  the  mother  said  :  "  I  suppose  you  were 
up  soon  enough  to  see  young  Mr.  Durgin  off.  Isn't 
it  too  bad  he  has  to  go  back  to  college  when  it's  so 
pleasant  in  the  country  ?  " 

"  Not  bad  for  him,"  said  Westover.  "  He's  a  young 
man  who  can  stand  a  great  deal  of  hard  work."  Partly 
because  he  was  a  little  tired  of  Jeff,  and  partly  because 
he  was  embarrassed  in  their  presence  by  the  reason  of 
his  going,  he  turned  the  talk  upon  the  days  they  had 
known  together. 

Mrs.  Yostrand  was  very  willing  to  talk  of  her  past, 
even  apart  from  his,  and  she  told  him  of  her  sojourn 
in  Europe  since  her  daughter  had  left  school.  They 
spent  their  winters  in  Italy  and  their  summers  in 
Switzerland,  where  it  seemed  her  son  was  still  at  his 
studies  in  Lausanne.  She  wished  him  to  go  to  Har 
vard,  she  said,  and  she  supposed  he  would  have  to 
finish  his  preparation  at  one  of  the  American  schools ; 
but  she  had  left  the  choice  entirely  to  Mr.  Vostrand. 

This  seemed  a  strange  event  after  twelve  years' 
stay  in  Europe  for  the  education  of  her  children,  but 
Westover  did  not  feel  authorized  to  make  any  com 
ment  upon  it.  He  fell  rather  to  thinking  how  very 
pleasant  both  mother  and  daughter  were,  and  to  won 
dering  how  much  wisdom  they  had  between  them. 
He  reflected  that  men  had  very  little  wisdom,  as  far 
as  he  knew  them,  and  he  questioned  whether,  after 
all,  the  main  difference  between  men  and  women  might 
not  be  that  women  talked  their  follies  and  men  acted 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  121 

theirs.  Probably  Mrs.  Vostrand,  with  all  her  babble, 
had  done  fewer  foolish  things  than  her  husband,  but 
here  Westover  felt  his  judgment  disabled  by  the  fact 
that  he  had  never  met  her  husband ;  and  his  mind  be 
gan  to  wander  to  a  question  of  her  daughter,  whom  he 
had  there  before  him.  He  found  himself  bent  upon 
knowing  more  of  the  girl,  and  trying  to  eliminate  her 
mother  from  the  talk,  or  at  least  to  make  Genevieve 
lead  in  it.  But  apparently  she  was  not  one  of  the 
natures  that  like  to  lead;  at  any  rate  she  remained 
discreetly  in  abeyance,  and  Westover  fancied  she  even 
respected  her  mother's  opinions  and  ideas.  He  thought 
this  very  well  for  both  of  them,  whether  it  was  the 
effect  of  Mrs.  Vostrand's  merit  or  Miss  Vostrand's 
training.  They  seemed  both  of  one  exquisite  gentle 
ness,  and  of  one  sweet  manner,  which  was  rather  elab 
orate  and  formal  in  expression.  They  deferred  to  each 
other  as  politely  as  they  deferred  to  him,  but,  if  any 
thing,  the  daughter  deferred  most. 


XVII. 

THE  Vostrands  did  not  stay  long  at  Lion's  Head. 
Before  the  week  was  out  Mrs.  Vostrand  had  a  letter 
summoning  them  to  meet  her  husband  at  Montreal, 
where  that  mysterious  man,  who  never  came  into  the 
range  of  Westover's  vision,  somehow,  was  kept  by 
business  from  joining  them  in  the  mountains. 

Early  in  October  the  painter  received  Mrs.  Vos- 
trand's  card  at  his  studio  in  Boston,  and  learned  from 
the  scribble  which  covered  it  that  she  was  with  her 
daughter  at  the  Hotel  Vendome.  He  went  at  once  to 
see  them  there,  and  was  met,  almost  before  the  greet 
ings  were  past,  with  a  prayer  for  his  opinion. 

"  Favorable  opinion  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Favorable  ?  Oh,  yes ;  of  course.  It's  simply  this. 
When  I  sent  you  my  card,  we  were  merely  birds  of 
passage,  and  now  I  don't  know  but  we  are —  What  is 
the  opposite  of  birds  of  passage  ? " 

Westover  could  not  think,  and  said  so. 

"  Well,  it  doesn't  matter.  We  were  walking  down 
the  street,  here,  this  morning,  and  we  saw  the  sign  of 
an  apartment  to  let,  in  a  window,  and  we  thought,  just 
for  amusement  we  would  w>  in  and  look  at  it." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  123 

"And  you  took  it?" 

"  No,  not  quite  so  rapid  as  that.  But  it  was  lovely; 
in  such  a  pretty  hotel  garni,  and  so  exquisitely  fur 
nished  !  We  didn't  really  think  of  staying  in  Boston  ; 
we'd  quite  made  up  our  minds  on  New  York  ;  but  this 
apartment  is  a  temptation." 

"  Why  not  yield,  then  ? "  said  Westover.  "  That's 
the  easiest  way  with  a  temptation.  Confess,  now,  that 
you've  taken  the  apartment  already  !  " 

"  No,  no,  I  haven't  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Vostrand. 

"  And  if  I  advised  riot,  you  wouldn't  ?  " 

"  Ah,  that's  another  thing  !  " 

"  When  are  you  going  to  take  possession,  Mrs.  Vos 
trand  ? " 

"  Oh,  at  once,  I  suppose — if  we  do !  " 

"  And  may  I  come  in  when  I'm  hungry,  just  as  I 
used  to  do  in  Florence,  and  will  you  stay  me  with 
flagons  in  the  old  way  ?  " 

"  There  never  was  anything  but  tea,  you  know  well 
enough." 

"  The  tea  had  rum  in  it." 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  will  have  rum  in  it  here,  if  you're 
very  good." 

"  I  will  try  my  best,  on  condition  that  you'll  make 
any  and  every  possible  use  of  me.  Mrs.  Vostrand,  I 
can't  tell  you  how  very  glad  I  am  you're  going  to  stay," 
said  the  painter,  with  a  fervor  that  made  her  impul 
sively  put  out  her  hand  to  him.  He  kept  it  while  he 
could  add,  "  I  don't  forget — I  can  never  forget — how 
good  you  were  to  me  in  those  days,"  and  at  that  she 
gave  his  hand  a  quick  pressure.  "  If  I  can  do  any- 


124  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

thing  at  all  for  you,  you  will  lot  me,  won't  you.  I'm 
afraid  you'll  be  so  well  provided  for  that  there  won't 
be  anything.  Ask  them  to  slight  you,  to  misuse  you 
in  something,  so  that  I  can  come  to  your  rescue." 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  Mrs.  Vostrand  promised.  "  And  may 
we  come  to  your  studio  to  implore  your  protection  ? " 

"The  sooner  the  better."  Westover  got  himself 
away  with  a  very  sweet  friendship  in  his  heart  for  this 
rather  anomalous  lady,  who,  more  than  half  her  daugh 
ter's  life,  had  lived  away  from  her  daughter's  father, 
upon  apparently  perfectly  good  terms  with  him,  and 
so  discreetly  and  self-respectfully  that  no  breath  of 
reproach  had  touched  her.  Until  now,  however,  her 
position  had  not  really  concerned  Westover,  and  it 
would  not  have  concerned  him  now,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  a  design  that  formed  itself  in  his  mind  as  soon  as 
he  knew  that  Mrs.  Vostrand  meant  to  pass  the  winter 
in  Boston.  He  felt  at  once  that  he  could  not  do  things 
by  halves  for  a  woman  who  had  once  done  them  for 
him  by  wholes  and  something  over,  and  he  had  in 
stantly  decided  that  he  must  not  only  be  very  pleasant 
to  her  himself,  but  he  must  get  his  friends  to  be  pleas 
ant,  too.  His  friends  were  some  of  the  nicest  people 
in  Boston ;  nice  in  both  the  personal  and  the  social 
sense ;  he  knew  they  would  not  hesitate  to  sacrifice 
themselves  for  him  in  a  good  cause,  and  that  made 
him  all  the  more  anxious  that  the  cause  should  be 
good  beyond  question. 

Since  his  last  return  from  Paris  he  had  been  rather 
a  fad  as  a  teacher,  and  his  class  had  been  kept  quite 
strictly  to  the  ladies  who  got  it  up  and  to  such  as  they 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  125 

chose  to  let  enter  it.  These  were  not  all  chosen  for 
wealth  or  family ;  there  were  some  whose  gifts  gave 
the  class  distinction,  and  the  ladies  were  glad  to  have 
them.  It  would  be  easy  to  explain  Mrs.  Vostrand  to 
these;  but  the  others  might  be  more  difficult;  they 
might  have  their  anxieties,  and  Westover  meant  to  ask 
the  leader  of  the  class  to  help  him  receive  at  the  studio 
tea  he  had  at  once  imagined  for  the  Vostrands,  and 
that  would  make  her  doubly  responsible. 

He  found  himself  drawing  a  very  deep  and  long 
breath  before  he  began  to  mount  the  many  stairs  to 
his  studio,  and  wishing  either  that  Mrs.  Vostrand  had 
not  decided  to  spend  the  winter  in  Boston,  or  else 
that  he  were  of  a  slacker  conscience  and  could  wear 
his  gratitude  more  lightly.  But  there  was  some  relief 
in  thinking  that  he  could  do  nothing  for  a  month  yet. 
He  gained  a  degree  of  courage  by  telling  the  ladies, 
when  he  went  to  find  them  in  their  new  apartment,  that 
he  should  want  them  to  meet  a  few  of  his  friends  at 
tea  as  soon  as  people  began  to  get  back  to  town ;  and 
he  made  the  most  of  their  instant  joy  in  accepting  his 
invitation. 

His  pleasure  was  somehow  dashed  a,  little,  before 
he  left  them,  by  the  announcement  of  Jeff  Durgin's 
name. 

"  I  felt  bound  to  send  him  my  card,"  said  Mrs. 
Vostrand,  while  Jeff  was  following  his  up  in  the  eleva 
tor.  "  He  was  so  very  kind  to  us  the  day  we  arrived 
at  Lion's  Head ;  and  I — didn't  know  but  he  might  be 
feeling  a  little  sensitive  about  coming  over  second- 
cabin  in  our  ship  ;  and — " 


126  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  How  like  you,  Mrs.  Vostrand  !  "  cried  Westover, 
and  he  was  now  distinctly  glad  he  had  not  tried  to 
sneak  out  of  doing  something  for  her.  "  Your  kind 
ness  won't  be  worse  wasted  on  Durgin  than  it  was  on 
me,  in  the  old  days,  when  I  supposed  I  had  taken  a 
second-cabin  passage  for  the  voyage  of  life.  There's 
a  great  deal  of  good  in  him ;  I  don't  mean  to  say  he 
got  through  his  Freshman  year  without  trouble  with 
the  college  authorities,  but  the  Sophomore  year  gen 
erally  brings  wisdom." 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Vostrand,  "  they're  always  a  little 
wild  at  first,  I  suppose." 

Later,  the  ladies  brought  Jeff  with  them  when  they 
came  to  Westover's  studio,  and  the  painter  perceived 
that  they  were  very  good  friends,  as  if  they  must  have 
met  several  times  since  he  had  seen  them  together. 
He  interested  himself  in  the  growing  correctness  of 
Jeff's  personal  effect.  During  his  Freshman  year, 
while  the  rigor  of  the  unwritten  Harvard  law  yet  for 
bade  him  a  silk  hat  or  a  cane,  he  had  kept  something 
of  the  boy,  if  not  the  country  boy.  Westover  had 
noted  that  he  had  always  rather  a  taste  for  clothes, 
but  in  this  first  year  he  did  not  get  beyond  a  derby- 
hat  and  a  sack-coat,  varied  towards  the  end  by  a  cut 
away.  In  the  outing  dress  he  wore  at  home  he  was 
always  effective,  but  there  was  something  in  .Jeff's  fig 
ure  which  did  not  lend  itself  to  more  formal  fashion  ; 
something  of  herculean  proportion  which  would  have 
marked  him  of  a  classic  beauty  perhaps  if  he  had  not 
been  in  clothes  at  all,  or  of  a  yeomanly  vigor  and 
force  if  he  had  been  clad  for  work,  but  which  seemed 


THE   LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  127 

to  threaten  the  more  worldly  conceptions  of  the  tailor 
with  danger.  It  was  as  if  he  were  about  to  burst  out 
of  his  clothes,  not  because  he  wore  them  tight,  but 
because  there  was  somehow  more  of  the  man  than 
the  citizen  in  him ;  something  native,  primitive,  some 
thing  that  Westover  could  not  find  quite  a  word  for, 
characterized  him  physically  and  spiritually.  When 
he  came  into  the  studio  after  these  delicate  ladies,  the 
robust  Jeff  Durgin  wore  a  long  frock-coat,  with  a  flow 
er  in  his  button-hole,  and  in  his  left  hand  he  carried 
a  silk  hat  turned  over  his  forearm  as  he  must  have 
noticed  people  whom  he  thought  stylish  carrying  their 
hats.  He  had  on  dark-gray  trousers  and  sharp-pointed 
enamelled-leather  shoes ;  and  Westover  grotesquely 
reflected  that  he  was  dressed,  as  he  stood,  to  lead 
Genevieve  Vostrand  to  the  altar. 

Westover  saw  at  once  that  when  he  made  his  studio  - 
tea  for  the  Vostrands  he  must  ask  Jeff ;  it  would  be 
cruel,  and  for  several  reasons  impossible,  not  to  do  so  ; 
and  he  really  did  not  see  why  he  should  not.  Mrs. 
Vostrand  was  taking  him  on  the  right  ground,  as  a 
Harvard  student,  and  nobody  need  take  him  on  any 
other.  Possibly  people  would  ask  him  to  teas  at  their 
own  housos,  from  Westover's  studio,  but  he  could  not 
feel  that  he  was  concerned  in  that.  Society  is  inter-  / 
ested  in  a  man's  future,  not  his  past,  as  it  is  interested 
in  a  woman's  past,  not  her  future. 

But  when  he  gave  his  tea  it  went  off  wonderfully 
well  in  every  way,  perhaps  because  it  was  one  of  the 
first  teas  of  the  fall.  It  brought  people  together  in 
their  autumnal  freshness  before  the  winter  had  begun 


128  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

to  wither  their  resolutions  to  be  amiable  to  one  another, 
to  dull  their  wits,  to  stale  their  stories,  or  to  give  so 
wide  a  currency  to  their  sayings  that  they  could  not 
freely  risk  them  with  every  one. 

Westover  had  thought  it  best  to  be  frank  with  the 
leading  lady  of  his  class,  when  she  said  she  should  be 
delighted  to  receive  for  him,  and  would  provide  suit 
able  young  ladies  to  pour :  a  brunette  for  the  tea,  and 
a  blonde  for  the  chocolate.  She  took  his  scrupulosity 
very  lightly  when  he  spoke  of  Mrs.  Vostrand's  educa 
tional  sojourn  in  Europe ;  she  laughed  and  said  she 
knew  the  type,  and  the  situation  was  one  of  the  most 
obvious  phases  of  the  American  marriage. 

He  protested  in  vain  that  Mrs.  Vostrand  was  not 
the  type ;  she  laughed  again,  and  said,  Oh,  types  were 
never  typical.  But  she  was  hospitably  gracious  both 
to  her  and  to  Miss  Genevieve ;  she  woi*ld  not  allow 
that  the  mother  was  not  the  type  when  Westover  chal 
lenged  her  experience,  but  she  said  they  were  charm 
ing,  and  made  haste  to  get  rid  of  the  question  with  the 
vivid  demand,  "  But  who  was  your  young  friend  who 
ought  to  have  worn  a  lion-skin  and  carried  a  club  ? " 

Westover  by  this  time  disdained  palliation.  He 
said  that  Jeff  was  the  son  of  the  landlady  at  Lion's 
Head  Mountain,  which  he  had  painted  so  much,  and 
he  was  now  in  his  second  year  at  Harvard,  where  he 
was  going  to  make  a  lawyer  of  himself ;  and  this  in 
terested  the  lady.  She  asked  if  he  had  talent,  and  a 
number  of  other  things  about  him  and  about  his  moth 
er  ;  and  Westover  permitted  himself  to  be  rather  graph 
ic  in  telling  of  his  acquaintance  with  Mrs,  Durgin. 


XVIII. 

AFTER  all,  it  was  rather  a  simple-hearted  thing  of 
Westover  to  have  either  hoped  or  feared  very  much 
for  the  Vostrands.  Society,  in  the  sense  of  good  so 
ciety,  can  always  take  care  of  itself,  and  does  so  per 
fectly.  In  the  case  of  Mrs.  Vostrand  some  ladies  who 
liked  Westover  and  wished  to  be  civil  to  him  asked 
her  and  her  daughter  to  other  afternoon  teas,  shook 
hands  with  tjieni.  at  their  coming,  and  said,  when  they 
went,  they  were  sorry  they  must  be  going  so  soon.  In 
the  crowds  people  recognized  them  now  and  then,  both 
of  those  who  had  met  them  at  Westover's  studio,  and 
of  those  who  had  met  them  at  Florence  and  Lausanne. 
But  if  these  were  merely  people  of  fashion  they  were 
readily  rid  of  the  Vostrands,  whom  the  dullest  among 
them  quickly  perceived  not  to  be  of  their  own  sort, 
somehow.  Many  of  the  ladies  of  Westover's  class 
made  Genevieve  promise  to  let  them  paint  her;  and 
her  beauty  and  her  grace  availed  for  several  large 
dances  at  the  houses  of  more  daring  spirits,  where  the 
daughters  made  a  duty  of  getting  partners  for  her,  and 
discharged  it  conscientiously.  But  there  never  was  an 
approach  to  more  intimate  hospitalities,  and  towards 
I 


130  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

the  end  of  February,  when  good  society  in  Boston 
goes  southward  to  indulge  a  Lenten  grief  at  Old  Point 
Comfort,  Gencvieve  had  so  many  vacant  afternoons 
and  evenings  at  her  disposal  that  she  could  not  have 
truthfully  pleaded  a  previous  engagement  to  the  invi 
tations  Jeff  Durgin  made  her.  They  were  chiefly  for 
the  theatre,  and  Westover  saw  him  with  her  and  her 
mother  at  different  plays ;  he  wondered  how  Jeff  had 
caught  on  to  the  notion  of  asking  Mrs.  Vostrand  to 
come  with  them. 

Jeff's  introductions  at  Westover's  tea  had  not  been 
many,  and  they  had  not  availed  him  at  all.  He  had 
been  asked  to  no  Boston  houses,  and  when  other  stu 
dents,  whom  he  knew,  were  going  in  to  dances,  the 
whole  winter  he  was  socially  as  quiet,  but  for  the  Vos- 
trands,  as  at  the  Mid-year  Examinations.  AVestover 
could  not  resent  the  neglect  of  society  in  his  case,  and 
he  could  not  find  that  he  quite  regretted  it ;  but  he 
thought  it  characteristically  nice  of  Mrs.  Vostrand  to 
make  as  much  of  the  friendless  fellow  as  she  fitly 
could.  He  had  no  doubt  but  her  tact  would  be  equal 
to  his  management  in  every  way,  and  that  she  could 
easily  see  to  it  that  he  did  not  'become  embarrassing 
to  her  daughter  or  herself. 

One  day,  after  the  east  wind  had  ceased  to  blow  the 
breath  of  the  ice-fields  of  Labrador  against  the  New 
England  coast,  and  the  buds  on  the  trees  along  the 
mall  between  the  lawns  of  the  avenue  were  venturing 
forth  in  a  hardy  experiment  of  the  Boston  May,  Mrs. 
Vostrand  asked  Westover  if  she  had  told  him  that  Mr. 
Vostrand  was  actually  coming  on  to  Boston.  He 


THEY    WERE    SORRY    THEY    MUST    BE    GOING    SO    SOON  " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  131 

rejoiced  with  her  in  this  prospect,  and  he  reciprocated 
the  wish  which  she  said  Mr.  Vostrand  had  always  had 
for  a  meeting  with  himself. 

A  fortnight  later,  when  the  leaves  had  so  far  inured 
themselves  to  the  weather  as  to  have  fully  expanded, 
she  announced  another  letter  from  Mr.  Vostrand,  say 
ing  that  after  all  he  should  not  be  able  to  come  to 
Boston,  but  hoped  to  be  in  New  York  before  she 
sailed. 

"  Sailed  !  "  cried  Westover. 

"  Why,  yes  !  Didn't  you  know  we  were  going  to 
sail  in  June  ?  I  thought  I  had  told  you  !  " 

"  No—" 

"  Why,  yes.  We  must  go  out  to  poor  Checco,  now ; 
Mr.  Vostrand  insists  upon  that.  If  ever  we  are  a 
united  family  again,  Mr.  AVestover — if  Mr.  Vostrand 
can  arrange  his  business,  when  Checco  is  ready  to  en 
ter  Harvard — I  mean  to  take  a  house  in  Boston.  I'm 
sure  I  should  be  contented  to  live  nowhere  else  in 
America.  The  place  has  quite  bewitched  me — dear 
old,  sober,  charming  Boston !  I'm  sure  I  should  like 
to  live  here  all  the  rest  of  my  life.  But  why  in  the 
world  do  people  go  out  of  town  so  early  ?  Those 
houses  over  there  have  been  shut  for  a  whole  month 
past ! " 

They  were  sitting  at  Mrs.  Vostrand's  window  look 
ing  out  on  the  avenue,  where  the  pale  globular  electrics 
were  swimming  like  jelly-fish  in  the  clear  evening  air, 
and  above  the  ranks  of  low  trees  the  houses  on  the 
other  side  were  close-shuttered  from  basement  to  attic. 

Westover  answered,  "  Some  go  because  they  have 


132  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

such  pleasant  houses  at  the  shore,  and  some  because 
they  want  to  dodge  their  taxes." 

"  To  dodge  their  taxes? "  she  repeated,  and  he  had 
to  explain  how  if  people  were  in  their  country-houses 
before  the  first  of  May  they  would  not  have  to  pay  the 
high  personal  tax  of  the  city ;  and  she  said  that  she 
would  write  that  to  Mr.  Vostrand  ;  it  would  be  another 
point  in  favor  of  Boston.  Women,  she  declared, 
would  never  have  thought  of  such  a  thing ;  she  de 
nounced  them  as  culpably  ignorant  offso  many  matters 
that  concerned  them,  especially  legal  matters.  "  And 
you  think,"  she  asked,  "  that  Mr.  Durgyi  will  be  a 
good  lawyer  ?  That  he  will — distinguish  himself  ?  " 

Westover  thought  it  rather  a  short-cut  to  Jeff  from 
the  things  they  had  been  talking  of,  but  if  she  wished 
to  speak  of  him  he  had  no  reason  to  oppose  her  wish. 
"  I've  heard  it's  all  changed  a  good  deal.  There  are 
still  distinguished  lawyers,  and  lawyers  who  get  on, 
but  they  don't  distinguish  themselves  in  the  old  way 
so  much,  and  they  get  on  best  by  becoming  counsel 
for  some  powerful  corporation." 

"  And  you  think  he  has  talent  ? "  she  pursued. 
"  For  that,  I  mean." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Westover.  "  I  think  he 
has  a  good  head.  He  can  do  what  he  likes  within 
certain  limits,  and  the  limits  are  not  all  on  the  side  I 
used  to  fancy.  He  baffles  me.  But  of  late,  I  fancy 
you've  seen  rather  more  of  him  than  I  have." 

"  I  have  urged  him  to  go  more  to  you.  But,"  said 
Mrs.  Vostrand,  with  a  burst  of  frankness,  "  he  thinks 
you  don't  like  him." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  133 

"  He's  wrong,"  said  Wcstovcr.  "  But  I  might  dis 
like  him  very  much." 

"  I  see  what  you  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Vostrand,  "  and 
I'm  glad  you've  been  so  frank  with  me.  I've  been  so 
interested  in  Mr.  Durgin,  so  interested  !  Isn't  he  very 
young  2  " 

The  question  seemed  a  bit  of  indirection  to  West- 
over.  But  he  answered  directly  enough.  "  He's  rather 
old  for  a  Sophomore,  I  believe.  He's  twenty-two." 

"  And  Genevieve  is  twenty.  Mr.  Westover,  may  I 
trust  you  with  something?" 

"With  everything,  I  hope,  Mrs.  Vostrand." 

"  It's  about  Genevieve.  Her  father  is  so  opposed 
to  her  making  a  foreign  marriage.  It  seems  to  be  his 
one  great  dread.  And  of  course  she's  very  much  ex 
posed  to  it,  living  abroad  so  much  with  me,  and  I  feel 
doubly  bound  on  that  account  to  respect  her  father's 
opinions,  or  even  prejudices.  Before  we  left  Florence 
— in  fact,  last  winter — there  was  a  most  delightful 
young  officer  wished  to  marry  her.  I  don't  know  that 
she  cared  anything  for  him,  though  he  was  everything 
that  /  could  have  wished :  handsome,  brilliant,  accom 
plished,  good  family;  everything  but  rich,  and  that 
was  what  Mr.  Vostrand  objected  to;  or,  rather,  he 
objected  to  putting  up,  as  he  called  it,  the  sum  that 
Captain  Grassi  would  have  had  to  deposit  with  the 
government  before  he  was  allowed  to  marry.  You 
know  how  it  is  with  the  poor  fellows  in  the  army, 
there ;  I  don't  understand  the  process  exactly,  but  the 
sum  is  something  like  sixty  thousand  francs,  I  believe  ; 
and  poor  Gigi  hadn't  it :  I.  always  called  him  Gigi,  but 


134  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

his  name  is  Count  Luigi  dc'  Popolani  Grassi ;  and  he 
is  descended  from  one  of  the  old  republican  families 
of  Florence.  He  is  so  nice  !  Mr.  Vostrand  was  op 
posed  to  him  from  the  beginning,  and  as  soon  as  he 
heard  of  the  sixty  thousand  francs,  he  utterly  refused. 
He  called  it  buying  a  son-in-law,  but  I  don't  see  why 
he  need  have  looked  at  it  in  that  light.  However,  it 
was  broken  off,  and  we  left  Florence — more  for  poor 
Gigi's  sake  than  for  Genevieve's,  I  must  say.  He  was 
quite  heart-broken  ;  I  pitied  him." 

Her  voice  had  a  tender  fall  in  the  closing  words, 
and  Westover  could  fancy  how  sweet  she  would  make 
her  compassion  to  the  young  man.  She  began  several 
sentences  aimlessly,  and  he  suggested,  to  supply  the 
broken  thread  of  her  discourse  rather  than  to  offer 
consolation,  while  her  eyes  seemed  to  wander  with  her 
mind,  and  ranged  the  avenue  up  and  down,  "  Those 
foreign  marriages  are  not  always  successful." 

"  No,  they  are  not,"  she  assented.  "  But  don't  you 
think  they're  better  with  Italians  than  with  Germans, 
for  instance." 

"  I  don't  suppose  the  Italians  expect  their  wives  to 
black  their  boots,  but  I've  heard  that  they  beat  them, 
sometimes." 

"  In  exaggerated  cases,  perhaps  they  do,"  Mrs. 
Vostrand  admitted.  "And,  of  course,"  she  added, 
thoughtfully,  "  there  is  nothing  like  a  purely  American 
marriage,  for  happiness." 

Westover  wondered  how  she  really  regarded  her 
own  marriage,  but  she  never  betrayed  any  conscious 
ness  of  its  variance  from  the  type. 


XIX. 

A  YOUNG  couple  came  strolling  down  the  avenue 
who  to  Westover's  artistic  eye  first  typified  grace  and 
strength,  and  then  to  his  more  personal  perception 
identified  themselves  as  Genevieve  Vostrand  and  Jeff 
Durgin. 

They  faltered  before  one  of  the  benches  beside  the 
mall,  and  he  seemed  to  be  begging  her  to  sit  down. 
She  cast  her  eyes  round  till  they  must  have  caught  the 
window  of  her  mother's  apartment ;  then,  as  if  she  felt 
safe  under  it,  she  sank  into  the  seat  and  Jeff  put  him 
self  beside  her.  It  was  quite  too  early  yet  for  the 
simple  lovers  who  publicly  notify  their  happiness  by 
the  embraces  and  hand-clasps  everywhere  evident  in 
our  parks  and  gardens ;  and  a  Boston  pair  of  social 
tradition  would  not  have  dreamed  of  sitting  on  a  bench 
in  Commonwealth  Avenue  at  any  hour.  But  two  such 
aliens  as  Jeff  and  Miss  Vostrand  might  very  well  do 
so ;  and  Westover  sympathized  with  their  bohemian 
impulse. 

Mrs.  Vostrand  and  he  watched  them  awhile,  in  talk 
that  straggled  away  from  them,  and  became  more  and 


136  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

more  distraught  in  view  of  them.  Jeff  leaned  for 
ward,  and  drew  on  the  ground  with  the  point  of  his 
stick ;  Genevieve  held  her  head  motionless  at  a  pensive 
droop.  It  was  only  their  backs  that  Westover  could 
see,  and  he  could  not  of  course  make  out  a  syllable 
of  what  was  effectively  their  silence  ;  but  all  the  same 
he  began  to  feel  as  if  he  were  peeping  and  eavesdrop 
ping. 

Mrs.  Vostrand  seemed  not  to  share  his  feeling,  and 
there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  have  it  if  she  had 
not.  He  offered  to  go,  but  she  said,  No,  no ;  he  must 
not  think  of  it  till  Genevieve  came  in  ;  and  she  added 
some  banalities  about  her  always  scolding  when  she 
had  missed  one  of  his  calls ;  they  would  be  so  few, 
now,  at  the  most. 

"  Why,  do  you  intend  to  go  so  soon  ? "  he  asked. 

She  did  not  seem  to  hear  him,  and  he  could  see 
that  she  was  watching  the  young  people  intently.  Jeff 
had  turned  his  face  up  towards  Genevieve,  without 
lifting  his  person,  and  was  saying  something  she  sud 
denly  shrank  back  from.  She  made  a  start  as  if  to 
rise,  but  he  put  out  his  hand  in  front  of  her,  beseech 
ingly  or  compellingly,  and  she  sank  down  again.  But 
she  slowly  shook  her  head  at  what  he  was  saying,  and 
turned  her  face  towards  him  so  that  it  gave  her  profile 
to  the  spectators.  In  that  light  and  at  that  distance 
it  was  impossible  to  do  more  than  fancy  anything  fate 
ful  in  the  words  which  she  seemed  to  be  uttering ;  but 
Westover  chose  to  fancy  this.  Jeff  waited  a  moment 
in  apparent  silence,  after  she  had  spoken.  He  sat 
erect,  and  faced  her,  and  this  gave  his  profile,  too. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  137 

He  must  have  spoken,  for  she  shook  her  head  again  ; 
and  then,  at  other  words  from  him,  nodded  assent- 
ingly.  Then  she  listened  motionlessly  while  he  poured 
a  rapid  stream  of  visible  but  inaudible  words.  He 
put  out  his  hand,  as  if  to  take  hers,  but  she  put  it  be 
hind  her ;  Westover  could  see  it  white  there  against 
the  belt  of  her  dark  dress. 

Jeff  went  on  more  vehemently,  but  she  remained 
steadfast,  slowly  shaking  her  head.  When  he  ended 
she  spoke,  and  with  something  of  his  own  energy ;  he 
made  a  gesture  of  submission,  and  when  she  rose,  he 
rose  too.  She  stood  a  moment,  and  with  a  gentle  and 
almost  entreating  movement  she  put  out  her  hand  to 
him.  He  stood  looking  down  with  both  his  hands 
resting  on  the  top  of  his  stick,  as  if  ignoring  her  prof 
fer.  Then  he  suddenly  caught  her  hand,  held  it  a 
moment,  dropped  it  and  walked  quickly  away  without 
looking  back.  Genevieve  ran  across  the  lawn  and 
roadway  towards  the  house. 

"  Oh,  must  you  go  ? "  Mrs.  Vostrand  said  to  AVest- 
over.  He  found  that  he  had  probably  risen  in  sym 
pathy  with  Jeff's  action.  He  was  not  aware  of  an 
intention  of  going,  but  he  thought  he  had  better  not 
correct  Mrs.  Vostrand's  error. 

"  Yes,  I  really  must,  now,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  then,"  she  returned  distractedly,  "  do  come 
often." 

He  hurried  out  to  avoid  meeting  Genevieve.  He 
passed  her  on  the  public  stairs  of  the  house,  but  he 
saw  that  she  did  not  recognize  him  in  the  dim  light. 

Late  that  night  he  was  startled  by  steps  that  seemed 


138  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

to  be  socking  their  way  up  the  stairs  to  his  landing, 
and  then  by  a  heavy  knock  on  his  door. 
He  opened  it,  and  confronted  Jeff  Durgin. 
"  May  I  come  in,   Mr.  Westover  ? "  he  asked  with 
unwonted  deference. 

"  Yes,  come  in,"  said  Westover,  with  no  great  rel 
ish,  setting  his  door  open,  and  then  holding  on  to  it  a 
moment,  as  if  he  hoped  that,  having  come  in,  Jeff 
might  instantly  go  out  again. 

His  reluctance  was  lost  upon  Jeff,  who  said,  uncon 
scious  of  keeping  his  hat  on,  "  I  want  to  talk  with 
you — I  want  to  tell  you  something — " 
"  All  right.     Won't  you  sit  down  ? " 
At  this  invitation  Jeff  seemed  reminded  to  take  his 
hat  off,  and  he  put  it  on  the  floor  beside  his  chair. 
"  I'm  not  in  a  scrape,  this  time ;  or,  rather,  I'm  in  the 
worst  kind  of  a  scrape,  though  it  isn't  the  kind  that 
you  want  bail  for." 

"  Yes,"  Westover  prompted. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you've  noticed — and  if  you 
haven't  it  don't  make  any  difference — that  I've  seemed 
to — care  a  good  deal  for  Miss  Vostrand  ?  " 

Westover  saw  no  reason  why  he  should  not  be 
frank,  and  said,  "  Too  much,  I've  fancied  sometimes, 
for  a  student  in  his  Sophomore  year." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that.  Well,  it's  over,  whether  it  was 
too  much  or  too  little."  He  laughed  in  a  joyless, 
helpless  way,  and  looked  deprecatingly  at  Westover. 
"  I  guess  I've  been  making  a  fool  of  myself ;  that's 
all." 

"  It's  better  to  make  a  fool  of  one's  self  than  to 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  139 

make  a  fool  of  some  one  else,"  said  Westover,  oracu 
larly. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jeff,  apparently  finding  nothing  more 
definite  in  the  oracle  than  people  commonly  find  in 
oracles.  "  But  I  think,"  he  went  on  with  a  touch  of 
bitterness,  "  that  her  mother  might  have  told  me  that 
she  was  engaged — or  the  same  as  engaged." 

"  I  don't  know  that  she  was  bound  to  take  you  se 
riously,  or  to  suppose  you  took  yourself  so,  at  your 
age,  and  with  your  prospects  in  life.  If  you  want  to 
know" — Westover  faltered,  and  then  went  on — "she 
began  to  be  kind  to  you  because  she  was  afraid  that 
you  might  think  she  didn't  take  your  coming  home 
second-cabin  in  the  right  way ;  and  one  thing  led  to 
another.  You  mustn't  blame  her  for  what's  hap 
pened." 

Westover  defended  Mrs.  Vostrand,  but  he  did  not 
feel  strong  in  her  defence ;  he  was  not  sure  that  Dur- 
gin  was  quite  wrong,  absurd  as  he  had  been.  He  sat 
down  and  looked  up  at  his  visitor  under  his  brows. 
"  What  are  you  here  for,  Jeff  ?  Not  to  complain  of 
Mrs.  Vostrand?" 

Jeff  gave  a  short,  shamefaced  laugh.  "  No,  it's  this. 
You're  such  an  old  friend  of  Mrs.  Vostrand's  that  I 
thought  she'd  be  pretty  sure  to  tell  you  about  it ;  and 
I  wanted  to  ask — to  ask — that  you  wouldn't  say  any 
thing  to  mother." 

"  You  are  a  boy !  I  shouldn't  think  of  meddling 
with  your  affairs,"  said  Westover ;  he  got  up  again, 
and  Jeff  rose  too. 

Before    noon   the   next    day,  a  district  messenger 


140  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

brought  Westovcr  a  letter  which  he  easily  knew,  from 
the  now  belated  tall,  angular  hand,  to  be  from  Mrs. 
Vostrand.  It  announced  on  a  much  criss-crossed  little 
sheet  that  she  and  Genevieve  were  inconsolably  taking 
a  very  sudden  departure,  and  were  going  on  the  twelve- 
o'clock  train  to  New  York,  where  Mr.  Vostrand  was 
to  meet  them.  "  In  regard  to  that  affair  which  I  men 
tioned  last  night,  he  withdraws  his  objections  (we 
have  had  an  overnight  telegram),  and  so  I  suppose  all 
will  go  well.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  sorry  we  both  are 
not  to  see  you  again  ;  you  have  been  such  a  dear,  good 
friend  to  us ;  and  if  you  don't  hear  from  us  again  at 
New  York,  you  will  from  the  other  side.  Genevieve 
had  some  very  strange  news  when  she  came  in,  and  we 
both  feel  very  sorry  for  the  poor  young  fellow.  You 
must  console  him  from  us  all  you  can.  I  did  not  know 
before  how  much  she  was  attached  to  Gigi:  but  it 
turned  out  very  fortunately  that  she  could  say  she  con 
sidered  herself  bound  to  him,  and  did  everything  to 
save  Mr.  D.'s  feelings." 


XX. 

WESTOVER  was  not  at  Lion's  Head  again  till  the 
summer  before  Jeff's  graduation.  In  the  meantime 
the  hotel  had  grown  like  a  living  thing.  He  could 
not  have  imagined  wings  in  connection  with  the  main 
edifice,  but  it  had  put  forth  wings,  one  that  sheltered 
a  new  and  enlarged  dining-room,  with  two  stories  of 
chambers  above,  and  another  that  hovered  a  parlor  and 
ball-room  under  a  like  provision  of  chambers.  An  ell 
had  been  pushed  back  on  the  level  behind  the  house ; 
the  barn  had  been  moved  farther  to  the  southward, 
and  on  its  old  site  a  laundry  built,  with  quarters  for 
the  help  over  it.  All  had  been  carefully,  frugally,  yet 
sufficiently  done,  and  Westover  was  not  surprised  to 
learn  that  it  was  all  the  effect  of  Jackson  Durgin's  in 
genuity  and  energy.  Mrs.  Durgin  confessed  to  having 
no  part  in  it;  but  she  had  kept  pace,  with  Cynthia 
WhitwelPs  help,  in  the  housekeeping.  As  Jackson 
had  cautiously  felt  his  way  to  the  needs  of  their  pub 
lic  in  the  enlargement  and  rearrangement  of  the  hotel, 
the  two  housewives  had  watchfully  studied,  not  merely 
the  demands,  but  the  half-conscious  instincts  of  their 
guests,  and  had  responded  to  them  simply  and  ade 
quately,  in  the  spirit  of  Jackson's  exterior  and  struct- 


142  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

ural  improvements.  The  walls  of  the  new  rooms  were 
left  unpapered  and  their  floors  uncarpeted  ;  there  were 
thin  rugs  put  down  ;  the  wood-work  was  merely  stained. 
Westover  found  that  he  need  not  to  ask  especially  for 
some  hot  dish  at  night ;  there  was  almost  the  abun 
dance  of  a  dinner,  though  dinner  was  still  at  one 
o'clock. 

Mrs.  Durgin  asked  him  the  first  day  if  he  would 
not  like  to  go  into  the  serving-room  and  see  it  while 
they  were  serving  dinner.  She  tried  to  conceal  her 
pride  in  the  busy  scene — the  waitresses  pushing  in 
through  one  valve  of  the  double-hinged  doors  with 
their  empty  trays,  and  out  through  the  other  with  the 
trays  full  laden ;  delivering  their  dishes  with  the  brok 
en  victual  at  the  wicket,  where  the  untouched  portions 
were  put  aside  and  the  rest  poured  into  the  waste ; 
following  in  procession  along  the  reeking  steam-table, 
with  its  great  tanks  of  soup  and  vegetables,  where  the 
carvers  stood  with  the  joints  and  the  trussed  fowls 
smoking  before  them,  which  they  sliced  with  quick 
sweeps  of  their  blades,  or  waiting  their  turn  at  the 
board  where  the  little  plates  with  portions  of  fruit  and 
dessert  stood  ready.  All  went  regularly  on  amid  a 
clatter  of  knives  and  voices  and  dishes ;  and  the  clash 
ing  rise  and  fall  of  the  wire  baskets  plunging  the  soiled 
crockery  into  misty  depths,  whence  it  came  up  clean 
and  dry  without  the  touch  of  finger  or  towel.  West- 
over  could  not  deny  that  there  were  elements  of  the 
picturesque  in  it,  so  that  he  did  not  respond  quite  in 
kind  to  Jeff's  suggestion,  "  Scene  for  a  painter,  Mr. 
Westover." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  143 

The  young  fellow  followed  satirically  at  his  mother's 
elbow,  and  made  a  mock  of  her  pride  in  it,  trying  to 
catch  Westover's  eye  when  she  led  him  through  the 
kitchen  with  its  immense  range,  and  introduced  him  to 
a  new  fhef,  who  wiped  his  hand  on  his  white  apron  to 
offer  it  to  Westover. 

"  Don't  let  him  get  away  without  seeing  the  laun 
dry,  mother,"  her  son  jeered  at  a  final  air  of  absent- 
mindedness  in  her,  and  she  defiantly  accepted  his 
challenge. 

"  Jeff's  mad  because  he  wasn't  consulted,"  she  ex 
plained,  "  and  because  we  don't  run  the  house  like  his 
one-horse  European  hotels." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  in  it  at  all,  Mr.  Westover,"  said  the 
young  fellow.  "  I'm  as  much  a  passenger  as  you  are. 
The  only  difference  is  that  I'm  allowed  to  work  my 
passage." 

"  Well,  one  thing,"  said  his  mother,  "  is  that  we've 
got  a  higher  class  of  boarders  than  we  ever  had  before. 
You'll  see,  Mr.  Westover,  if  you  stay  on  here  till 
August.  There's  a  class  that  boards  all  the  year 
round,  and  that  knows  what  a  hotel  is — about  as  well 
as  Jeff,  I  guess.  You'll  find  'em  at  the  big  city  houses, 
the  first  of  the  winter,  and  then  they  go  down  to  Flor- 
idy  or  Georgy  for  February  and  March ;  and  they  get 
up  to  Fortress  Mon-roe  in  April,  and  work  along  north 
about  the  middle  of  May  to  them  family  hotels  in  the 
suburbs  around  Boston ;  and  they  stay  there  till  it's 
time  to  go  to  the  shore.  They  stay  at  the  shore 
through  July,  and  then  they  come  here  in  August,  and 
stay  till  the  leaves  turn.  They're  folks  that  live  on 


14:4  TUB    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

their  money,  and  they're  the  very  highest  class,  I 
guess.  It's  a  round  of  gayety  with  'em  the  whole 
year  through." 

Jeff,  from  the  vantage  of  his  greater  worldly  expe 
rience,  was  trying  to  exchange  looks  of  intelligence 
with  Westovcr  concerning  those  hotel-dwellers  whom 
his  mother  revered  as  aristocrats  ;  but  he  did  not  openly 
question  her  conceptions.  "  They've  told  me  how  they 
do,  some  of  the  ladies  have,"  she  went  on.  "  They've 
got  the  monqy  for  it,  and  they  know  how  to  get  the 
most  for  their  money.  Why,  Mr.  Westover,  we've 
got  rooms  in  this  house,  now,  that  we  let  for  thirty- 
five  to  fifty  dollars  a  week,  for  two  persons,  and  folks 
like  that  take  'em  right  along  through  August  and 
September,  and  want  a  room  apiece.  It's  different 
now,  I  can  tell  you,  from  what  it  was  when  folks 
thought  we  was  killin'  'em  if  we  wanted  ten  or  twelve 
dollars." 

Westover  had  finished  his  dinner  before  this  tour 
of  the  house  began,  and  when  it  was  over  the  two  men 
strolled  away  together. 

"  You  see,  it's  on  the  regular  American  lines,"  Jeff 
pursued,  after  parting  with  his  mother.  "Jackson's 
done  it,  and  he  can't  imagine  anything  else.  I  don't 
say  it  isn't  well  done  in  its  way,  but  the  way's  wrong; 
it's  stupid  and  clumsy."  When  they  were  got  so  far 
from  the  hotel  as  to  command  a  prospect  of  its  un 
gainly  mass  sprawled  upon  the  plateau,  his  smoulder 
ing  disgust  burst  out.  "  Look  at  it !  Did  you  ever 
see  anything  like  it?  I  wish  the  damned  thing  would 
burn  up — or  down  !  " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  145 

Westover  was  aware  in  more  ways  than  one  of  Jeffs 
exclusion  from  authority  in  the  place,  where  he  was 
constantly  set  aside  from  the  management  as  if  his 
future  were  so  definitely  dedicated  to  another  calling 
that  not  even  his  advice  was  desired  or  permitted ;  and 
he  could  not  help  sympathizing  a  little  with  him  when 
he  chafed  at  his  rejection.  He  saw  a  great  deal  of 
him,  and  he  thought  him  quite  up  to  the  average  of 
Harvard  Seniors  in  some  essentials.  He  had  been  so 
bered  apparently  by  experience ;  his  unfortunate  love- 
affair  seemed  to  have  improved  him,  as  the  phrase  is. 

They  had  some  long  walks  and  long  talks  together, 
and  in  one  of  them  Jeff  opened  his  mind,  if  not  his 
heart,  to  the  painter.  He  wanted  to  be  the  Landlord 
of  the  Lion's  Head,  which  he  believed  he  could  make 
the  best  hotel  in  the  mountains.  He  knew,  of  course, 
that  he  could  not  hope  to  make  any  changes  that  did 
not  suit  his  mother  and  his  brother,  as  long  as  they 
had  the  control,  but  he  thought  they  would  let  him 
have  the  control  sooner  if  his  mother  could  only  be 
got  to  give  up  the  notion  of  his  being  a  lawyer.  As 
nearly  as  he  could  guess,  she  wanted  him  to  be  a  law 
yer  because  she  did  not  want  him  to  be  a  hotel-keeper, 
and  her  prejudice  against  that  was  because  she  believed 
that  selling  liquor  made  her  father  a  drunkard. 

"  Well,  now  you  know  enough  about  me,  Mr.  West- 
over,  to  know  that  drink  isn't  my  danger." 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  do,"  said  Westover. 

"  I  went  a  little  wild  in  my  Freshman  year,  and  I 
got  into  that  scrape ;  but.  I've  never  been  the  worse  for 
liquor  since.  Fact  is,  I  never  touch  it  now.  There 
J 


146  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

isn't  any  more  reason  why  I  should  take  to  drink  be 
cause  I  keep  a  hotel  than  Jackson  ;  but  just  that  one 
time  has  set  mother  against  it,  and  I  can't  seem  to 
make  her  understand  that  once  is  enough  for  me. 
Why,  I  should  keep  a  temperance  house,  here,  of 
course ;  you  can't  do  anything  else  in  these  days.  If 
I  was  left  to  choose  between  hotel-keeping  and  any 
other  life  that  I  know  of,  I'd  choose  it  every  time,"  Jeff 
went  on  after  a  moment  of  silence.  "  I  like  a  hotel. 
You  can  be  your  own  man  from  the  start ;  the  start's 
made  here,  and  I've  helped  to  make  it.  All  you've  got 
to  do  is  to  have  common-sense  in  the  hotel  business, 
and  you're  sure  to  succeed.  I  believe  I've  got  com 
mon-sense,  and  I  believe  I've  got  some  ideas  that  I  can 
work  up  into  a  great  success.  The  reason  that  most 
people  fail  in  the  hotel  business  is  that  they  waste  so 
much,  and  the  landlord  that  wastes  on  his  guests  can't 
treat  them  well.  It's  got  so  now  that  in  the  big  city 
houses  they  can't  make  anything  on  feeding  people, 
and  so  they  try  to  make  it  up  on  the  rooms.  I  should 
feed  them  well — I  believe  I  know  how — and  I  should 
make  money  on  my  table,  as  they  do  in  Europe.  I've 
thought  a  good  many  things  out ;  my  mind  runs  on  it 
all  the  time ;  but  I'm  not  going  to  bore  you  with  it 
now." 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,"  said  Westover.  "  I'd  like  to  know 
what  your  ideas  are." 

"  Well,  some  time  I'll  tell  you.  But  look  here,  Mr. 
Westover,  I  wish  if  mother  gets  to  talking  about  me 
with  you,  that  you'd *let  her  know  how  I  feel.  We 
can't  talk  together,  she  and  I,  without  quarrelling  about 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  147 

it ;  but  I  guess  yo.u  could  put  in  a  word  that  would 
show  her  I  wasn't  quite  a  fool.  She  thinks  I've  gone 
crazy  from  seeing  the  way  they  do  things  in  Europe ; 
that  I'm  conceited  and  unpatriotic,  and  I  don't  know 
what  all." 

Jeff  laughed  as  if  with  an  inner  fondness  for  his 
mother's  wrongheadedness. 

"  And  would  you  be  willing  to  settle  down  here  in 
the  country  for  the  rest  of  your  life,  and  throw  away 
your  Harvard  training  on  hotel-keeping  ? " 

"  What  do  the  other  fellows  do  with  their  Harvard 
training  when  they  go  into  business,  as  nine-tenths  of 
them  do  ?  Business  is  business,  whether  you  keep  a 
hotel  or  import  dry-goods,  or  manufacture  cotton,  or 
run  a  railroad,  or  help  a  big  trust  to  cheat  legally. 
Harvard  has  got  to  take  a  back  seat  when  you  get  out 
of  Harvard.  But  you  don't  suppose  that  keeping  a 
summer  hotel  would  mean  living  in  the  country  the 
whole  time,  do  you?  That's  the  way  mother  does, 
but  I  shouldn't.  It  isn't  good  for  the  hotel,  even.  If 
I  had  such  a  place  as  Lion's  Head,  I  should  put  a  man 
and  his  family  into  it  for  the  winter  to  look  after  it, 
and  I  should  go  to  town  myself — to  Boston  or  New 
York,  or  I  might  go  to  London  or  Paris.  They're  not 
so  far  off,  and  it's  so  easy  to  get  to  them  that  you  can 
hardly  keep  away."  Jeff  laughed,  and  looked  up  at 
Westover  from  the  log  where  he  sat,  whittling  a  pine 
stick ;  Westover  sat  on  the  stump  from  which  the  log 
had  been  felled  eight  or  ten  years  before. 

"  You  are  modern,"  he  said. 

"  That's  what  I  should  do  at  first.     But  I  don't  be- 


148  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

lieve  I  should  have  Lion's  Head  very  long  before  I  had 
another  hotel — in  Florida,  or  the  Georgia  uplands,  or 
North  Carolina,  somewhere.  I  should  take  my  help 
back  and  forth ;  it  would  be  as  easy  to  run  two  hotels 
as  one ;  easier  !  It  would  keep  my  hand  in.  But  if 
you  want  to  know,  I'd  rather  stick  here  in  the  country, 
year  in  and  year  out,  and  run  Lion's  Head,  than  to  be 
a  lawyer  and  hang  round  trying  to  get  a  case  for  nine 
or  ten  years.  Who's  going  to  support  me  ?  Do  you 
suppose  I  want  to  live  on  mother  till  I'm  forty  ?  She 
don't  think  of  that.  She  thinks  I  can  go  right  into 
court,  and  begin  distinguishing  myself,  if  I  can  fight 
the  people  off  from  sending  me  to  Congress.  I'd 
rather  live  in  the  country,  anyway.  I  think  town's 
the  place  for  winter,  or  two-three  months  of  it,  and 
after  that  I  haven't  got  any  use  for  it.  But  mother, 
she's  got  this  old-fashioned  ambition  to  have  me  go  to 
a  city,  and  set  up  there.  She  thinks  that  if  I  was  a 
lawyer  in  Boston  I  should  be  at  the  top  of  the  heap. 
But  I  know  better -than  that,  and  so  do  you;  and  I 
want  you  to  give  her  some  little  hint  of  how  it  really 
is :  how  it  takes  family,  and  money,  and  a  lot  of  influ 
ence  to  get  to  the  top  in  any  city." 

It  occurred  to  Westover,  and  not  for  the  first  time, 
that  the  frankest  thing  in  Jeff  Durgin  was  his  dispo 
sition  to  use  his  friends.  It  seemed  to  him  that  Jeff 
was  always  asking  something  of  him,  and  it  did  not 
change  the  fact  that  in  this  case  he  thought  him  alto 
gether  in  the  right.  He  said  that  if  Mrs.  Durgin  spoke 
to  him  of  the  matter  he  would  not  keep  the  light  from 
her.  He  looked  about  him,  now,  for  the  first  time, 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  149 

in  recognition  of  the  place  where  they  had  stopped. 
"Why,  this  is  WhitwelFs  Clearing." 

"Didn't  you  know  it?"  Jeff  asked.  "It  changes 
a  good  deal  every  year,  and  you  haven't  been  here  for 
a  while,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Not  since  Mrs.  Marven's  picnic,"  said  Westover, 
and  he  added  quickly,  to  efface  the  painful  association 
which  he  must  have  called  up  by  his  heedless  words, 
"  The  woods  have  crowded  back  upon  it  so.  It  can't 
be  more  than  half  its  old  size." 

"  No,"  Jeff  assented.  He  struck  his  heel  against  a 
fragment  of  the  pine  bough  he  had  been  whittling, 
and  drove  it  into  the  soft  ground  beside  the  log,  and 
said,  without  looking  up  from  it,  "  I  met  that  woman 
at  a  dance  last  winter.  It  wasn't  her  dance,  but  she 
was  running  it  as  if  it  were,  just  the  way  she  did  with 
the  picnic.  She  seemed  to  want  to  let  bygones  be  by 
gones,  and  I  danced  with  her  daughter.  She's  a  nice 
girl.  I  thought  mother  did  wrong  about  that."  Now 
he  looked  at  Westover.  "  She  couldn't  help  it,  but 
it  wasn't  the  thing  to  do.  A  hotel  is  a  public  house, 
and  you  can't  act  as  if  it  wasn't.  If  mother  hadn't 
known  how  to  keep  a  hotel  so  well  in  other  ways,  she 
might  have  ruined  the  house  by  not  knowing  in  a 
thing  like  that.  But  we've  got  some  of  the  people 
with  us  this  year  that  used  to  come  here  when  we  first 
took  farm-boarders ;  mother  don't  know  that  they're 
ever  so  much  nicer,  socially,  than  the  people  that  take 
the  fifty-dollar  rooms."  He  laughed,  and  then  he 
said,  seriously,  "  If  I  ever  had  a  son,  I  don't  believe  I 
should  let  my  pride  in  him  risk  doing  him  mischief. 


150  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

And  if  you've  a  mind  to  let  her  understand  that  you 
believe  I'm  set  against  the  law  for  good  and  all — " 

"  I  guess  I  shall  not  be  your  ambassador,  so  far  as 
that.  Why  don't  you  tell  her  yourself  ?  " 

"  She  won't  believe  me,"  said  Jeff,  with  a  laugh. 
"  She  thinks  I  don't  know  my  mind.  And  I  don't 
like  the  way  we  differ  when  we  differ.  We  differ  more 
than  we  mean  to.  I  don't  pretend  to  say  I'm  always 
right.  She  was  right  about  that  other  picnic — the 
one  I  wanted  to  make  for  Mrs.  Vostrand.  I  suppose," 
he  ended  unexpectedly,  "that  you  hear  from  them, 
now  and  then  ? " 

"  No,  I  don't.  I  haven't  heard  from  them  for  a 
year ;  not  since —  You  knew  Genevieve  was  married  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  knew  that,'"  said  Jeff,  steadily. 

"I  don't  quite  make  it  all  out.  Mr.  Vostrand  was 
very  much  opposed  to  it,  Mrs.  Vostrand  told  me ;  but 
he  must  have  given  way  at  last ;  and  he  must  have  put 
up  the  money."  Jeff  looked  puzzled,  and  Westover 
explained.  "  You  know  the  officers  in  the  Italian  army 
— and  all  the  other  armies  in  Europe,  for  that  matter 
—have  to  deposit  a  certain  sum  with  the  government 
before  they  can  marry — and  in  the  case  of  Count 
Grassi,  Mr.  Vostrand  had  to  furnish  the  money." 

Jeff  said  after  a  moment,  "  Well,  she  couldn't  help 
that." 

"  No,  the  girl  wasn't  to  blame.  I  don't  know  that 
any  one  was  to  blame.  But  I'm  afraid  our  girls 
wouldn't  marry  many  titles  if  their  fathers  didn't  put 
up  the  money." 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  why  they  shouldn't  spend  their 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  151 

money  that  way  as  well  as  any  other,"  said  Jeff,  and 
this  proof  of  his  impartiality  suggested  to  Westover 
that  he  was  not  only  indifferent  to  the  mercenary  in 
ternational  marriages,  which  are  a  scandal  to  so  many 
of  our  casuists,  but  had  quite  outlived  his  passion  for 
the  girl  concerned  in  this. 

"  At  any  rate,"  Jeff  added,  "  I  haven't  got  anything 
to  say  against  it.  Mr.  Westover,  I've  always  wanted 
to  say  one  thing  to  you.  When  I  came  to  your  room 
that  night,  I  wanted  to  complain  of  Mrs.  Vostrand  for 
not  letting  me  know  about  the  engagement;  and  I 
wasn't  man  enough  to  acknowledge  that  what  you  said 
would  account  for  their  letting  me  make  a  fool  of  my 
self.  But  I  believe  I  am  now,  and  I  want  to  say  it." 

"  I'm  glad  you  can  see  it  in  that  way,"  said  West- 
over,  "  and  since  you  do,  I  don't  mind  saying  that  I 
think  Mrs.  Yostrand  might  have  been  a  little  franker 
with  you  without  being  less  kind.  She  was  kind,  but 
she  wasn't  quite  frank." 

"Well,  it's  all  over  now,"  said  Jeff,  and. he  rose  up 
and  brushed  the  whittlings  from  his  knees.  "  And  I 
guess  it's  just  as  well." 


XXI. 

THAT  afternoon  Westover  saw  Jeff  helping  Cynthia 
Whitwell  into  his  buckboard,  and  then,  after  his  lively 
horse  had  made  some  paces  of  a  start,  spring  to  the 
seat  beside  her  and  bring  it  to  a  stand.  "  Can  I  do 
anything  for  you  over  at  Lovewell,  Mr.  Westover  ? " 
he  called,  and  he  smiled  towards  the  painter.  Then 
he  lightened  the  reins  on  the  mare's  back ;  she  squared 
herself  for  a  start  in  earnest,  and  flashed  down  the 
sloping  hotel  road  to  the  highway  below,  and  was  lost 
to  sight  in  the  clump  of  woods  to  the  southward. 

"  That's  a  good  friend  of  yours,  Cynthy,"  he  said, 
leaning  towards  the  girl  with  a  simple  comfort  in  her 
proximity.  She  was  dressed  in  a  pale  pink  color,  with 
a  hat  of  yet  paler  pink ;  without  having  a  great  deal 
of  fashion,  she  had  a  good  deal  of  style.  She  looked 
bright  and  fresh;  there  was  a  dash  of  pink  in  her 
cheeks,  which  suggested  the  color  of  the  sweetbrier, 
its  purity  and  sweetness,  and  if  there  was  something 
in  Cynthia's  character  and  temperament  that  suggested 
its  thorns  too,  one  still  could  not  deny  that  she  was 
like  that  flower.  She  liked  to  shop,  and  she  liked  to 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  153 

ride  after  a  good  horse,  as  the  neighbors  would  have 
said  ;  she  was  going  over  to  Lovewell  to  buy  a  number 
of  things,  and  Jeff  Durgin  was  driving  her  there  with 
the  swift  mare  that  was  his  peculiar  property.  She 
smiled  upon  him  without  the  usual  reservations  she 
contrived  to  express  in  her  smiles. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  anybody  I'd  rather  have  for 
my  friend  than  Mr.  Westover."  She  added,  "  He 
acted  like  a  friend  the  very  first  time  I  saw  him." 

Jeff  laughed  with  shameless  pleasure  in  the  reminis 
cence  her  words  suggested.  "  Well,  I  did  get  my 
come-uppings  that  time.  And  I  don't  know  but  he's 
been  a  pretty  good  friend  to  me,  too.  I'm  not  sure 
he  likes  me ;  but  Mr.  Westover  is  a  man  that  could  be 
your  friend  if  he  didn't  like  you." 

"What  have  you  done  to  make  him  like  you?" 
asked  the  girl. 

"  Nothing  ! "  said  Jeff,  with  a  shout  of  laughter  in 
his  conviction.  "  I've  done  a  lot  of  things  to  make 
him  despise  me  from  the  start.  But  if  you  like  a 
person  yourself,  you  want  him  to  like  you  whether  you 
deserve  it  or  not." 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  do." 

"  You  say  that  because  you  always  deserve  it.  You 
can't  tell  how  it  is  with  a  fellow  like  me.  I  should 
want  you  to  like  me,  Cynthy,  whatever  you  thought 
of  me."  He  looked  round  into  her  face,  but  she 
turned  it  away. 

They  had  struck  the  level,  long  for  the  hill  country, 
at  the  foot  of  the  hotel  road,  and  the  mare,  that 
found  herself  neither  mounting  nor  descending  a  steep, 


154  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

dropped  from  the  trot  proper  for  an  acclivity  into  a 
rapid  walk. 

'•  This  mare  can  walk  like  a  Kentucky  horse,"  said 
Jeff.  "  I  believe  I  could  teach  her  single-foot."  He 
added,  with  a  laugh,  "  If  I  knew  how,"  and  now  Cyn 
thia  laughed  with  him. 

"  I  was  just  going  to  say  that." 

"  Yes,  you  don't  lose  many  chances  to  give  me  a 
dig,  do  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  as  I  look  for  them.  Perhaps  I 
don't  need  to."  The  pine  woods  were  deep  on  either 
side.  They  whispered  in  the  thin,  sweet  wind,  and 
gave  out  their  odor  in  the  high,  westering  sun.  They 
covered  with  their  shadows  the  road  that  ran  velvety 
between  them. 

"  This  is  nice,"  said  Jeff,  letting  himself  rest  against 
the  back  of  the  seat.  He  stretched  his  left  arm  along 
the  top,  and  presently  it  dropped  and  folded  itself 
about  the  waist  of  the  girl. 

"You  may  take  your  arm  away,  Jeff,"  she  said, 
quietly. 

"  Why  ? " 

"  Because  it  has  no  right  there,  for  one  thing ! " 
She  drew  herself  a  little  aside,  and  looked  round  at 
him.  "  You  wouldn't  put  it  round  a  town  girl  if  you 
were  riding  with  her." 

"  I  shouldn't  be  riding  with  her.  Girls  don't  go 
buggy-riding  in  town  any  more,"  said  Jeff,  brutally. 

"  Then  I  shall  know  what  to  do  the  next  time  you 
ask  me." 

"  Oh,  they'd  go  quick  enough  if  I  asked  them  up 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  155 

here  in  the  country.  Etiquette  don't  count  with  them 
when  they're  on  a  vacation." 

"  I'm  not  on  a  vacation ;  so  it  counts  with  me. 
Please  take  your  arm  away,"  said  Cynthia. 

"  Oh,  all  right.  But  I  shouldn't  object  to  your 
putting  your  arm  around  me." 

"  You  will  never  have  the  chance." 

"  Why  are  you  so  hard  on  me,  Cynthy  ? "  asked  Jeff. 
:'  You  didn't  used  to  be  so." 

"  People  change." 

"Do  I?" 

"  Not  for  the  better." 

Jeff  was  dumb.  She  was  pleased  with  her' hit,  and 
laughed.  But  her  laugh  did  not  encourage  him  to  put 
his  arm  round  her  again.  He  let  the  mare  walk  on, 
and  left  her  to  resume  the  conversation  at  whatever 
point  she  would. 

She  made  no  haste  to  resume  it.  At  last  she  said, 
with  sufficient  apparent  remoteness  from  the  subject 
they  had  dropped,  "  Jeff,  I  don't  know  whether  you 
want  me  to  talk  about  it.  But  I  guess  I  ought  to,  even 
if  it  isn't  my  place  exactly.  I  don't  think  Jackson's 
very  well,  this  summer." 

Jeff  faced  round  towards  her.  "  What  makes  you 
think  he  isn't  well  ?  " 

"  He's  weaker.     Haven't  you  noticed  it  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  have  noticed  that.  He's  worked  down ; 
that's  all." 

"  No,  that  isn't  all.     But  if  you  don't  think  so — " 

"  1  want  to  know  what  you  think,  Cynthy,"  said 
Jeff,  with  the  amorous  resentment  all  gone  from  his 


156  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

voice.  "  Sometimes  folks  outside  notice  the  signs 
more —  I  don't  mean  that  you're  an  outsider,  as  far 
as  we're  concerned — " 

She  put  by  that  point.  "  Father's  noticed  it,  too  ; 
and  he's  with  Jackson  a  good  deal." 

"  I'll  look  after  it.  If  he  isn't  so  well,  he's  got  to 
have  a  doctor.  That  medium's  stuff  can't  do  him  any 
good.  Don't  you  think  he  ought  to  have  a  doctor  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  You  don't  think  a  doctor  can  do  him  much  good  ?  " 

"  He  ought  to  have  one,"  said  the  girl,  non-commit- 
tally. 

"  Cynthia,  I've  noticed  that  Jackson  was  weak,  too  ; 
and  it's  no  use  pretending  that  he's  simply  worked 
down.  I  believe  he's  worn  out.  Do  you  think  moth 
er's  ever  noticed  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  she  has." 

"  It's  the  one  thing  I  can't  very  well  make  up  my 
mind  to  speak  to  her  about.  I  don't  know  what  she 
would  do."  He  did  not  say,  "  If  she  lost  Jackson," 
but  Cynthia  knew  he  meant  that,  and  they  were  both 
silent.  "  Of  course,"  he  went  on,  "  I  know  that  she 
places  a  great  deal  of  dependence  upon  you,  but  Jack 
son's  her  main  stay.  He's  a  good  man,  and  he's  a 
good  son.  I  wish  I'd  always  been  half  as  good." 

Cynthia  did  not  protest  against  his  self-reproach  as 
he  possibly  hoped  she  would.  She  said,  "I  think 
Jackson's  got  a  very  good  mind.  He  reads  a  great 
deal,  and  he's  thought  a  great  deal,  and  when  it  comes 
to  talking,  I  never  heard  any  one  express  themselves 
better.  The  other  night,  we  were  out  looking  at  the 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  157 

stars — I  came  part  of  the  way  home  with  him  ;  I  didn't 
like  to  let  him  go  alone,  he  seemed  so  feeble — and  he 
got  to  showing  me  Mars.  He  thinks  it's  inhabited, 
and  he's  read  all  that  the  astronomers  say  about  it,  and 
the  seas  and  the  canals  that  they've  found  on  it.  He 
spoke  very  beautifully  about  the  other  life,  and  then 
he  spoke  about  death."  Cynthia's  voice  broke,  and 
she  pulled  her  handkerchief  out  of  her  belt,  and  put  it 
to  her  eyes.  Jeff's  heart  melted  in  him  at  the  sight ; 
he  felt  a  tender  affection  for  her,  very  unlike  the  gross 
content  he  had  enjoyed  in  her  presence  before,  and  he 
put  his  arm  round  her  again,  but  this  time  almost  un 
consciously,  and  drew  her  towards  him.  She  did  not 
repel  him ;  she  even  allowed  her  head  to  rest  a  mo 
ment  on  his  shoulder  ;  though  she  quickly  lifted  itr  and 
drew  herself  away,  not  resentfully,  it  seemed,  but  for 
her  greater  freedom  in  talking. 

"  I  don't  believe  he's  going  to  die,"  Jeff  said,  con 
solingly,  more  as  if  it  were  her  brother  than  his  that 
he  meant.  "  But  he's  a  very  sick  man,  and  he's  got 
to  knock  off,  and  go  somewhere.  It  won't  do  for  him 
to  pass  another  winter  here.  He  must  go  to  Califor 
nia,  or  Colorado  ;  they'd  be  glad  to  have  him  there, 
either  of  them ;  or  he  can  go  to  Florida,  or  over  to 
Italy.  It  won't  matter  how  long  he  stays — " 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  Jeff  Durgin  ? "  Cyn 
thia  demanded,  severely.  "  What  would  your  mother 
do  ?  What  would  she  do  this  winter  ?  " 

"That  brings  me  to  something,  Cynthia,"  said  Jeff, 
"  and  I  don't  want  you  to  say  anything  till  IVe  got 
through.  I  guess  I  could  help  mother  run  the  place 


158  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

as  well  as  Jackson,  and  I  could  stay  here  next  win 
ter." 

"  You  ? " 

"  Now,  you  let  me  talk !  My  mind's  made  up  about 
one  thing:  I'm  not  going  to  be  a  lawyer.  I  don't 
want  to  go  back  to  Harvard.  I'm  going  to  keep  a 
hotel,  and  if  I  don't  keep  one  here  at  Lion's  Head,  I'm 
going  to  keep  it  somewhere  else." 

"  Have  you  told  your  mother?" 

"  Not  yet.  I  wanted  to  hear  what  you  would  say 
first." 

"  I  ?  Oh,  I  haven't  got  anything  to  do  with  it," 
said  Cynthia, 

"  Yes,  you  have  !  You've  got  everything  to  do  with 
it,  if  you'll  say  one  thing  first.  Cynthia,  you  know 
how  I  feel  about  you.  It's  been  so  ever  since  we  were 
boy  and  girl  here.  I  want  you  to  promise  to  marry 
me.  Will  you  ? " 

The  girl  seemed  neither  surprised  nor  very  greatly 
pleased ;  perhaps  her  pleasure  had  spent  itself  in  that 
moment  of  triumphant  expectation  when  she  foresaw 
what  was  coming,  or  perhaps  she  was  preoccupied  in 
clearing  the  way  in  her  own  mind  to  a  definite  result. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Cynthia  ? "  Jeff  pursued,  with 
more  injury  than  misgiving  in  his  voice  at  her  delay 
in  answering.  "  Don't  you — care  for  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  presume  I've  always  done  that — ever 
since  we  were  boy  and  girl,  as  you  say.  But — " 

"  Well  2 "  said  Jeff,  patiently,  but  not  insecurely. 

"  Have  you  ?  " 

"  Have  I  what  ?  " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  159 

"Always  cared  for  me" 

He  codd  not  find  his  voice  quite  as  promptly  as 
before.  He  cleared  his  throat  before  he  asked,  "  Has 
Mr.  Westover  been  saying  anything  about  me  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  exactly ;  but  I  pre 
sume  you  do." 

"Well,  then — I  always  expected  to  tell  you — I  did 
have  a  fancy  for  that  girl,  for  Miss  Vostrand,  and  I — 
told  her  so.  It's  like  something  that  never  happened. 
She  wouldn't  have  me.  That's  all." 

"  And  you  expect  me  to  take  what  she  wouldn't 
have  ? " 

"  If  you  like  to  call  it  that.  But  I  should  call  it 
taking  a  man  that  had  been  out  of  his  head  for  a  while, 
and  had  come  to  his  senses  again." 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  should  ever  feel  safe  with  a  man 
that  had  been  out  of  his  head  once." 

"  You  wouldn't  find  many  men  that  hadn't,"  said 
Jeff,  with  a  laugh  that  was  rather  scornful  of  her  ig 
norance. 

"  No,  I  presume  not,"  she  sighed.  "  She  was  beau 
tiful,  and  I  believe  she  was  good,  too.  She  was  very 
nice.  Perhaps  I  feel  strangely  about  it.  But  if  she 
hadn't  been  so  nice,  I  shouldn't  have  been  so  willing 
that  you  should  have  cared  for  her." 

"  I  suppose  I  don't  understand,"  said  Jeff,  "  but  I 
know  I  was  hard  hit.  What's  the  use  ?  It's  over.  She's 
married.  I  can't  go  back  and  unlive  it  all.  But  if 
you  want  time  to  think — of  course  you  do — Pve  taken 
time  enough — " 

He  was  about  to  lift  the  reins  on  the  mare's  back  as 


160  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

a  sign  to  her  that  the  talk  was  over  for  the  present, 
and  to  quicken  her  pace,  when  Cynthia  put  out  her 
hand  and  laid  it  on  his,  and  said  with  a  certain  effect 
of  authority :  "  I  shouldn't  want  you  should  give  up 
your  last  year  in  Harvard." 

"  Just  as  you  say,  Cynthy ;  "  and  in  token  of  intel 
ligence  he  wound  his  arm  round  her  neck  and  kissed 
her.  It  was  not  the  first  kiss  by  any  means ;  in  the 
country  kisses  are  not  counted  very  serious,  or  at  all 
binding,  and  Cynthia  was  a  country  girl ;  but  they 
both  felt  that  this  kiss  sealed  a  solemn  troth  between 
them,  and  that  a  common  life  began  for  them  with  it 


XXII. 

CYNTHIA  came  back  in  time  to  go  into  the  dining- 
room  and  see  that  all  was  in  order  there  for  supper 
before  the  door  opened.  The  waitresses  knew  that 
she  had  been  out  riding,  as  they  called  it,  with  Jeff 
Durgin ;  the  fact  had  spread  electrically  to  them  where 
they  sat  in  a  shady  angle  of  the  hotel  listening  to 
one  who  read  a  novel  aloud,  and  skipped  all  but  the 
most  exciting  love  parts.  They  conjectured  that  the 
pair  had  gone  to  Lovewell,  but  they  knew  nothing 
more,  and  the  subtlest  of  them  would  not  have  found 
reason  for  further  conjecture  in  Cynthia's  behavior, 
when  she  came  in  and  scanned  the  tables  and  the  girls' 
dresses  and  hair,  where  they  stood  ranged  against  the 
wall.  She  was  neither  whiter  nor  redder  than  usual, 
and  her  nerves  and  her  tones  were  under  as  good  con 
trol  as  a  girl's  ever  are  after  she  has  been  out  riding 
with  a  fellow.  It  was  not  such  a  great  thing,  anyway, 
to  ride  with  Jeff  Durgin.  First  and  last,  nearly  all  the 
young  lady  boarders  had  been  out  with  him,  upon  one 
errand  or  another  to  Lovewell. 

After  supper,  when  the  girls  had  gone  over  to  their 
K 


162  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

rooms  in  the  helps'  quarters,  and  the  guests  had  gath 
ered  in  the  wide,  low  office,  in  the  light  of  the  fire 
kindled  on  the  hearth  to  break  the  evening  chill,  Jeff 
joined  Cynthia  in  her  inspection  of  the  dining-room. 
She  always  gave  it  a  last  look,  to  see  that  it  was  in 
perfect  order  for  breakfast,  before  she  went  home  for 
the  night.  Jeff  went  home  with  her ;  he  was  impatient 
of  her  duties,  but  he  was  in  no  hurry  when  they  stole 
out  of  the  side  door  together  under  the  stars,  and  be 
gan  to  stray  sidelong  down  the  hill  over  the  dewless 
grass. 

He  lingered  more  and  more  as  they  drew  near  her 
father's  house,  in  the  abandon  of  a  man's  love.  He 
wished  to  give  himself  solely  up  to  it,  to  think  and  to 
talk  of  nothing  else,  after  a  man's  fashion.  But  a 
woman's  love  is  no  such  mere  delight.  It  is  serious, 
practical.  For  her  it  is  all  future,  and  she  cannot  give 
herself  wholly  up  to  any  present  moment  of  it,  as  a 
man  does. 

"  Now,  Jeff,"  she  said,  after  a  certain  number  of 
partings,  in  which  she  had  apparently  kept  his  duty 
clearly  in  mind,  "  you  had  better  go  home  and  tell 
your  mother." 

"  Oh,  there's  time  enough  for  that,"  he  began. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  her  right  away,  or  there  won't 
be  anything  to  tell." 

"  Is  that  so  ?"  he  joked  back.  "  Well,  if  I  must,  I 
must,  I  suppose.  But  I  didn't  think  you'd  take  the 
whip-hand  so  soon,  Cynthia." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  ever  want  to  take  the  whip-hand  with 
you,  Jeff.  Don't  make  me  !  " 


'  '  NOW,  JEFF,  YOU  HAD  BETTER  GO  HOME  AND  TELL  YOUR 
MOTHER'" 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  163 

"  Well,  I  won't,  then.  But  what  are  you  in  such  a 
hurry  to  have  mother  know  for  ?  She's  not  going  to 
object.  And  if  she  does — " 

"  It  isn't  that,"  said  the  girl.  "  If  I  had  to  go  round 
a  single  day  with  your  mother  hiding  this  from  her, 
I  should  begin  to  hate  you.  I  couldn't  bear  the  con 
cealment.  I  shall  tell  father  as  soon  as  I  go  in." 

"  Oh,  your  father '11  be  all  right,  of  course." 

"  Yes,  he'll  be  all  right,  but  if  he  wouldn't,  and  I 
knew  it,  I  should  have  to  tell  him,  all  the  same.  Now, 
good-night.  Well,  there,  then;  and  there!  Now,  let 
me  go  !  " 

She  paused  for  a  moment  in  her  own  room,  to 
smooth  her  tumbled  hair,  and  try  to  identify  herself 
in  her  glass.  Then  she  went  into  the  sitting-room, 
where  she  found  her  father  pulled  up  to  the  table,  with 
his  hat  on,  and  poring  over  a  sheet  of  hieroglyphics, 
which  represented  the  usual  evening  with  planchette. 

"  Have  you  been  to  help  Jackson  up  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Well,  I  wanted  to,  but  he  wouldn't  hear  of  it. 
He's  feelin'  ever  so  much  better  to-night,  and  he 
wanted  to  go  alone.  I  just  come  in." 

"  Yes,  you've  got  your  hat  on  yet." 

Whitwell  put  his  hand  up  and  found  that  his  daugh 
ter  was  right.  He  laughed,  and  said,  "  I  guess  I  must 
'a'  forgot  it.  We've  had  the  most  interestin1  season 
with  plantchette  that  I  guess  we've  about  ever  had. 
She's  said  something  here — " 

"  Well,  never  mind ;  I've  got  something  more  impor 
tant  to  say  than  plantchette  has,"  said  Cynthia,  and  she 
pulled  the  sheet  away  from  under  her  father's  eyes. 


164  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

This  made  him  look  up  at  her.  "  Why,  what's  hap 
pened  ? " 

"  Nothing.  Jeff  Durgin  has  asked  me  to  marry 
him." 

"  He  has  !  "  The  New  England  training  is  not  such 
as  to  fit  people  for  the  expression  of  strong  emotion, 
and  the  best  that  Whitwell  found  himself  able  to  do 
in  view  of  the  fact  was  to  pucker  his  mouth  for  a 
whistle  which  did  not  come. 

"Yes — this  afternoon,"  said  Cynthia,  lifelessly. 
The  tension  of  her  nerves  relaxed  in  a  languor  which 
was  evident  even  to  her  father,  though  his  eyes  still 
wandered  to  the  sheet  she  had  taken  from  him. 

"  Well,  you  don't  seem  over  and  above  excited  about 
it.  Did — did  you —  What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  know  what  I  said  ?  What  do  you 
think  of  it,  father  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  give  the  subject  much  at 
tention,"  said  the  philosopher.  "  I  always  meant  to 
take  it  out  of  him,  somehow,  if  he  got  to  play  in'  the 
fool." 

"  Then  you  wanted  I  should  accept  him  ? " 

"  What  difference  'd  it  make  what  I  wanted  ?  That 
what  you  done  ? " 

"  Yes,  I've  accepted  him,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  sigh. 
"  I  guess  I've  always  expected  to." 

"  Well,  I  thought  likely  it  would  come  to  that,  my 
self.  All  I  can  say,  Cynthy,  is  't  he's  a  lucky  feller." 

Whitwell  leaned  back,  bracing  his  knees  against  the 
table,  which  was  one  of  his  philosophic  poses.  "  I 
have  sometimes  believed  that  Jeff  Durgin  was  goin'  to 


THE    LANDLOIID    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  165 

turn  out  a  blackguard.  He's  got  it  in  him.  He's  as 
like  his  gran'father  as  two  peas,  and  he  was  an  old 
devil.  But  you  got  to  account  in  all  these  here  hered 
ity  cases  for  counteractin'  influences.  The  Durgins 
are  as  good  as  wheat,  right  along,  all  of  'em ;  and  I 
guess  Mis'  Durgin's  mother  must  have  been  a  pretty 
good  woman  too.  Mis'  Durgin's  all  right,  too,  if  she 
has  got  a  will  of  her  own."  AVhitwell  returned  from 
his  scientific  inquiry  to  ask,  "  How  '11  she  take  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Cynthia,  dreamily,  but  with 
out  apparent  misgiving.  "  That's  Jeff's  lookout." 

"  So  'tis.  I  guess  she  won't  make  much  fuss.  A 
woman  never  likes  to  see  her  son  get  married;  but 
you've  been  a  kind  of  daughter  to  her  so  long.  Well, 
I  guess  that  part  of  it  '11  be  all  right.  Jackson,"  said 
Whitwell,  in  a  tone  of  relief,  as  if  turning  from  an  ir 
relevant  matter  to  something  of  real  importance,  "  was 
down  here  to-night  tryin'  to  ring  up  some  them  spirits 
from  the  planet  Mars.  Martians,  he  calls  'em.  His 
mind's  got  to  runnin'  a  good  deal  on  Mars  lately.  I 
guess  it's  this  apposition  that  they  talk  about  that  does 
it.  Mars  comin'  so  much  nearer  the  earth  by  a  million 
of  miles  or  so,  it  stands  to  reason  that  he  should  be 
more  influenced  by  the  minds  on  it.  I  guess  it's  a 
case  o'  that  telepathy  that  Mr.  Westover  tells  about.  I 
judge  that  if  he  kept  at  it  before  Mars  gits  off  too  far 
again  he  might  make  something  out  of  it.  I  couldn't 
seem  to  find  much  sense  in  what  plantchette  done 
to-night;  we  couldn't  either  of  us;  but  she  has  her 
spells  when  you  can't  make  head  or  tail  of  her.  But 
mebbe  she's  just  leadin'  up  to  something,  the  way  she 


166  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

did  about  that  broken  shaft  when  Jeff  come  home. 
We  ha'n't  ever  made  out  exactly  what  she  meant  by 
that  yet." 

Whitwell  paused,  and  Cynthia  seized  the  advantage 
of  his  getting  round  to  Jeff  again.  "  He  wanted  to 
give  up  going  to  Harvard  this  last  year,  but  I  wouldn't 
let  him." 

"  Jeff  did  ?  "  asked  her  father.  «  Well,  you  done  a 
good  thing  that  time,  anyway,  Cynthy.  His  mother  'd 
never  get  over  it." 

"  There's  something  else  she's  got  to  get  over,  and 
I  don't  know  how  she  ever  will.  He's  going  to  give 
up  the  law." 

"  Give  up  the  law  !  " 

"  Yes.  Don't  tease,  father !  He  says  he's  never 
cared  about  it,  and  he  wants  to  keep  a  hotel.  I  thought 
that  I'd  ought  to  tell  him  how  we  felt  about  Jackson's 
having  a  rest,  and  going  off  somewhere ;  and  he  wanted 
to  begin  at  once.  But  I  said  if  he  left  off  the  last 
year  at  Harvard  I  wouldn't  have  anything  to  do  with 
him." 

AVhitwell  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  for  his  knife, 
and  mechanically  looked  down  for  a  stick  to  whittle. 
In  default  of  any,  he  scratched  his  head.  "  I  guess 
she'll  make  it  warm  for  him.  She's  had  her  mind  set 
on  his  studyin'  law  so  long,  't  she  won't  give  up  in  a 
hurry.  She  can't  see  that  Jackson  ain't  fit  to  help  her 
run  the  hotel,  any  more — till  he's  had  a  rest,  anyway 
— and  I  believe  she  thinks  her  and  Frank  could  run  it 
— and  you.  She'll  make  an  awful  kick,"  said  Whitwell, 
solemnly.  "  I  hope  you  didn't  encourage  him  Cynthy  ? " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  167 

"  I  should  encourage  him,"  said  the  girl.  "  He's 
got  the  right  to  shape  his  own  life,  and  nobody  else 
has  got  the  right  to  do  it ;  and  I  should  tell  his  mother 
so,  if  she  ever  said  anything  to  me  about  it." 

"  All  right,"  said  Whitwell.  "  I  suppose  you  know 
what  you're  about." 

"I  do,  father.  Jeff  would  make  a  good  landlord; 
he's  got  ideas  about  a  hotel,  and  I  can  see  that  they're 
the  right  ones.  He's  been  out  in  the  world,  and  he's 
kept  his  eyes  open.  He  will  make  Lion's  Head  the 
best  hotel  in  the  mountains." 

"  It's  that  already." 

"  He  doesn't  think  it's  half  as  good  as  he  can  make 
it." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  half  what  it  is  now,  if  it  wa'n't  for 
you  and  Frank." 

"I  guess  he  understands  that,"  said  Cynthia. 
"  Frank  would  be  the  clerk." 

"  Got  it  all  mapped  out !  "  said  Whitwell  proudly, 
in  his  turn.  "Look  out  you  don't  slip  up  in  your 
calculations.  That's  all." 

"  I  guess  we  sha'n't  slip  up." 


XXIII. 

JEFF  came  into  the  ugly  old  family  parlor,  where 
his  mother  sat  mending  by  the  kerosene-lamp  which 
she  had  kept  through  all  the  household  changes,  and 
pushed  enough  of  her  work  aside  from  the  corner  of 
the  table  to  rest  his  arm  upon  it. 

"  Mother,  I  want  you  to  listen  to  me,  and  to  wait 
till  I  get  done.  Will  you  ? " 

She  looked  up  at  him  over  her  spectacles  from  the 
stocking  she  was  darning;  the  china  egg  gleamed 
through  the  frayed  place.  "  What  notion  have  you 
got  in  your  head,  now  ? " 

"  It's  about  Jackson.  He  isn't  well.  He's  got  to 
leave  off  work,  and  go  away." 

The  mother's  hand  dropped  at  the  end  of  the  yarn 
she  had  drawn  through  the  stocking  heel,  and  she 
stared  at  Jeff.  Then  she  resumed  her  work  with  the 
decision  expressed  in  her  tone.  "  Your  father  lived 
to  be  sixty  years  old,  and  Jackson  a'n't  forty  !  The 
doctor  said  there  wa'n't  any  reason  why  he  shouldn't 
live  as  long  as  his  father  did." 

"  I'm  not  saying  he  won't  live  to  a  hundred.  I'm 
saying  he  oughtn't  to  stay  another  winter  here." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  169 

Mrs.  Durgin  was  silent  for  a  time,  and  then  she 
said,  "  Jeff,  is  that  your  notion  about  Jackson,  or  whose 
is  it  ? " 

"  It's  mine,  now." 

Mrs.  Durgin  waited  a  moment.  Then  she  began, 
with  a  feeling  quite  at  variance  with  her  words :  "  Well, 
I'll  thank  Cynthy  Whit'ell  to  mind  her  own  business ! 
Of  course,"  she  added,  and  in  what  followed  her 
feeling  worked  to  the  surface  in  her  words,  "  I  know  't 
she  thinks  the  world  of  Jackson,  and  he  does  of  her ; 
and  I  presume  she  means  well.  I  guess  she'd  be  more 
apt  to  notice,  if  there  was  any  change,  than  what  I 
should.  What  did  she  say  3  " 

Jeff  told,  as  nearly  as  he  could  remember,  and  he  told 
what  Cynthia  and  he  had  afterwards  jointly  worked 
out  as  to  the  best  thing  for  Jackson  to  do.  Mrs.  Dur 
gin  listened  frowningly,  but  not  disapprovingly,  as  it 
seemed ;  though  at  the  end  she  asked,  "  And  what  am 
I  going  to  do,  with  Jackson  gone  ? " 

Jeff  laughed,  with  his  head  down.  "  Well,  I  guess 
you  and  Cynthy  could  run  it,  with  Frank  and  Mr. 
Whitwell." 

"  Mr.  Whit'ell !  "  said  Mrs.  Durgin,  concentrating 
in  her  accent  of  his  name  the  contempt  she  could  not 
justly  pour  out  on  the  others. 

"  Or,"  Jeff  went  on,  "  I  did  think  that  /  could  take 
hold  with  you,  if  you  could  bring  yourself  to  let  me 
off  this  last  year  at  Harvard." 

"  Jeff  !  "  said  his  mother,  reproachfully.  "  You 
know  you  don't  mean  that  you'd  give  up  your  last 
year  in  college?" 


170  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  I  do  mean  it,  but  I  don't  expect  you  to  do  it ;  and 
I  don't  ask  it.  I  suggested  it  to  Cynthy,  when  we 
got  to  talking  it  over,  and  she  saw  it  wouldn't  do." 

"  Well,  she  showed  some  sense  that  time,"  Mrs. 
Durgin  said. 

"  I  don't  know  when  Cynthy  hasn't  shown  sense, 
except  once,  and  then  I  guess  it  was  my  fault." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Why,  this  afternoon  I  asked  her  to  marry  me 
sometime,  and  she  said  she  would."  He  looked  at 
his  mother  and  laughed,  and  then  he  did  not  laugh. 
He  had  expected  her  to  be  pleased ;  he  had  thought 
to  pave  the  way  with  this  confession  for  the  declaration 
of  his  intention  not  to  study  law,  and  to  make  his 
engagement  to  Cynthia  serve  him  in  reconciling  his 
mother  to  the  other  fact.  But  a  menacing  suspense 
followed  his  words. 

His  mother  broke  out  at  last :  "  You  asked  Cynthy 
Whit'ell  to  marry  you !  And  she  said  she  would ! 
Well,  I  can  tell  her  she  won't,  then  !  " 

"And  I  can  tell  you  she  will!'1''  Jeff  stormed  back. 
He  rose  to  his  feet  and  stood  over  his  mother. 

She  began  steadily,  as  if  he  had  not  spoken.  "  If 
that  designin' — " 

"Look  out,  mother!  Don't  you  say  anything 
against  Cynthia !  She's  been  the  best  girl  to  you  in 
the  world,  and  you  know  it.  She's  been  as  true  to 
.you  as  Jackson  has  himself.  She  hasn't  got  a  selfish 
bone  in  her  body,  and  she's  so  honest  she  couldn't 
design  anything  against  you  or  any  one,  unless  she 
told  you  first.  Now  you  take  that  back !  Take  it 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  171 

back !  She's  no  more  designing  than — than  you 
are  !  " 

Mrs.  Durgin  was  not  moved  by  his  storming,  but 
she  was  inwardly  convinced  of  error.  "  I  do  take  it 
back.  Cynthy  is  all  right.  She's  all  you  say  and  more. 
It's  your  fault,  then,  and  you've  got  yourself  to  thank, 
for  whosever  fault  it  is,  she'll  pack — " 

"  If  Cynthy  packs,  /pack !  "  said  Jeff.  "  Understand 
that.  The  moment  she  leaves  this  house  I  leave  it  too, 
and  I'll  marry  her  anyway.  Frank  'd  leave  and — and — 
Pshaw  !  What  do  you  care  for  that  ?  But  I  don't  know 
what  you  mean !  I  always  thought  you  liked  Cynthy 
and  respected  her.  I  didn't  believe  I  could  tell  you  a 
thing  that  would  please  you  better  than  that  she  had 
said  she  would  have  me.  But  if  it  don't,  all  right." 

Mrs.  Durgin  held  her  peace  in  bewilderment;  she 
stared  at  her  son  with  dazed  eyes,  under  the  spectacles 
lifted  above  her  forehead.  She  felt  a  change  of  mood 
in  his  unchanged  tone  of  defiance,  and  she  met  him 
half-way.  "  I  tell  you  I  take  back  what  I  called  Cyn 
thy,  and  I  told  you  so.  But — but  I  didn't  ever  expect 
you  to  marry  her." 

"  Why  didn't  you  ?  There  isn't  one  of  the  summer 
folks  to  compare  with  her.  She's  got  more  sense  than 
all  of  'em.  I've  known  her  ever  since  I  can  remember. 
Why  didn't  you  expect  it  2  " 

"  I  didn't  expect  it." 

"  Oh,  I  know  !  You  thought  I'd  see  somebody  in 
Boston — some  swell  girl.  Well,  they  wouldn't  any  of 
them  look  at  me,  and  if  they  would,  they  wouldn't 
look  at  you.'1'' 


172  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  I  shouldn't  care  whether  they  looked  at  me  or  not." 

"  I  tell  you  they  wouldn't  look  at  me.  You  don't 
understand  about  these  things,  and  I  do.  They  marry 
their  own  kind,  and  I'm  not  their  kind,  and  I  shouldn't 
be  if  I  was  Daniel  Webster  himself.  Daniel  Webster  ! 
Who  remembers  him,  or  cares  for  him,  or  ever  did  ? 
You  don't  believe  it  ?  You  think  that  because  I've 
been  at  Harvard—  Oh,  can't  I  make  you  see  it  ?  I'm 
what  they  call  a  jay  in  Harvard,  and  Harvard  don't 
count  if  you're  a  jay." 

His  mother  looked  at  him  without  speaking.  She 
would  not  confess  the  ambition  he  taxed  her  with,  and 
perhaps  she  had  nothing  so  definite  in  her  mind.  Per 
haps  it  was  only  her  pride  in  him,  and  her  faith  in  a 
splendid  future  for  him,  that  made  her  averse  to  his 
marriage  in  the  lot  she  had  always  known,  and  on  a 
little  lower  level  in  it  than  her  own.  She  said  at  last : 
"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  being  a  jay.  But 
I  guess  we  better  not  say  anything  more  about  this 
to-night." 

"  All  right,"  Jeff  returned.  There  never  were  any 
formal  good-nights  between  the  Durgins,  and  he  went 
away  now  without  further  words. 

His  mother  remained  sitting  where  he  left  her. 
Two  or  three  times  she  drew  her  empty  darning-needle 
through  the  heel  of  the  stocking  she  was  mending. 

She  was  still  sitting  there  when  Jackson  passed  on 
his  way  to  bed,  after  leaving  the  office  in  charge  of 
the  night  porter.  He  faltered,  as  he  went  by,  and  as 
he  stood  on  the  threshold  she  told  him  what  Jeff  had 
told  her. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  173 

"  That's  good,"  he  said,  lifelessly.  "  Good  for  Jeff," 
he  added,  thoughtfully,  conscientiously. 

"  Why  a'n't  it  good  for  her,  too  ?  "  demanded  Jeff's 
mother,  in  quick  resentment  of  the  slight  put  upon  him. 

"  I  didn't  say  it  wa'n't,"  said  Jackson.  "But  it's 
better  for  Jeff." 

"  She  may  be  very  glad  to  get  him !  " 

"  I  presume  she  is.  She's  always  cared-  for  him,  I 
guess.  She'll  know  how  to  manage  him." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin,  "  as  I  like  to 
have  you  talk  so,  about  Jeff.  He  was  here,  just  now, 
wantin'  to  give  up  his  last  year  in  Harvard,  so 's  to  let 
you  go  off  on  a  vacation.  He  thinks  you've  worked 
yourself  down." 

Jackson  made  no  recognition  of  Jeff's  professed  self- 
sacrifice.  "  I  don't  want  any  vacation.  I'm  feeling 
first  rate  now.  I  guess  that  stuff  I  had  from  the 
writin'  medium  has  begun  to  take  hold  of  me.  I 
don't  know  when  I've  felt  so  well.  I  believe  I'm  go 
ing  to  get  stronger  than  ever  I  was.  Jeff  say  I  needed 
a  rest  ? " 

Something  like  a  smile  of  compassion  for  the  delu 
sion  of  his  brother  dawned  upon  the  sick  man's  wasted 
face,  which  was  blotched  with  large  freckles,  and 
stared  with  dim,  large  eyes  from  out  a  framework  of 
grayish  hair,  and  grayish  beard  cut  to  the  edges  of 
the  cheeks  and  chin. 


XXIV. 

MRS.  DURGIN  and  Cynthia  did  not  seek  any  formal 
meeting  the  next  morning.  The  course  of  their  work 
brought  them  together,  but  it  was  not  till  after  they 
had  transacted  several  household  affairs  of  pressing 
importance  that  Mrs.  Durgin  asked,  "What's  this 
about  you  and  Jeff  ? " 

"  Has  he  been  telling  you  ?  "  asked  Cynthia,  in  her 
turn,  though  she  knew  he  had. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin,  with  a  certain  dryness, 
which  was  half  humorous.  "  I  presume,  if  you  two 
are  satisfied,  it's  all  right." 

"  I  guess  we're  satisfied,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  tre 
mor  of  relief  which  she  tried  to  hide. 

Nothing  more  was  said,  and  there  was  no  physical 
demonstration  of  affection  or  rejoicing  between  the 
women.  They  knew  that  the  time  would  come  when 
they  would  talk  over  the  affair  down  to  the  bone  to 
gether,  but  now  they  were  content  to  recognize  the 
fact,  and  let  the  time  for  talking  arrive  when  it  would. 
"I  guess,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin,  "you'd  better  go 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  175 

to  the  helps'  house  and  see  how  that  youngest  Miller 
girl's  gittin'  along.  She'd  ought  to  give  up  and  go 
home  if  she  a'n't  fit  for  her  work." 

"  I'll  go  and  see  her,"  said  Cynthia.  "  I  don't  be 
lieve  she's  strong  enough  for  a  waitress,  and  I  have 
got  to  tell  her  so." 

"  Well,"  returned  Mrs.  Durgin,  glumly,  after  a  mo 
ment's  reflection,  "  I  shouldn't  want  you  should  hurry 
her.  Wait  till  she's  out  of  bed,  and  give  her  another 
chance." 

"  All  right." 

Jeff  had  been  lurking  about  for  the  event  of  the  in 
terview,  and  he  waylaid  Cynthia  on  the  path  to  the 
helps'  house. 

"I'm  going  over  to  see  that  youngest  Miller  girl," 
she  explained. 

"Yes,  I  know  all  about  that,"  said  Jeff.  "Well, 
mother  took  it  just  right,  didn't  she  ?  You  can't  al 
ways  count  on  her ;  but  I  hadn't  much  anxiety  in  this 
case.  She  likes  you,  Cynthia." 

"I  guess  so,"  said  the  girl,  demurely;  and  she 
looked  away  from  him  to  smile  her  pleasure  in  the  fact. 

"  But  I  believe  if  she  hadn't  known  you  were  with 
her  about  my  last  year  in  Harvard — it  would  have 
been  different.  I  could  see,  when  I  brought  it  in  that 
you  wanted  me  to  go  back,  her  mind  was  made  up  for 
you." 

"  Why  need  you  say  anything  about  that  ? " 

"Oh,  I  knew  it  would  clinch  her.  I  understand 
mother.  If  you  want  something  from  her  you  mustn't 
ask  it  straight  out.  You  must  propose  something  very 


176  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

disagreeable.     Then  when  she  refuses  that,  you  can 
come  in  for  what  you  were  really  after  and  get  it." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Cynthia,  "  as  I  should  like  to 
think  that  your  mother  had  been  tricked  into  feeling 
right  about  me." 

"  Tricked  !  "     The  color  flashed  up  in  Jeff's  face. 

"  Not  that,  Jeff,"  said  the  girl,  tenderly.  "  But  you 
know  what  I  mean.  I  hope  you  talked  it  all  out  fully 
with  her." 

"•  Fully?     I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  About  your  not  studying  law,  and — everything." 

"  I  don't  believe  in  crossing  a  river  till  I  come  to 
it,"  said  Jeff,  "  I  didn't  say  anything  to  her  about 
that." 

"You  didn't!" 

"  No.  What  had  it  got  to  do  with  our  being  en 
gaged  f " 

"  What  had  your  going  back  to  Harvard  to  do  with 
it  ?  If  your  mother  thinks  I'm  with  her  in  that,  she'll 
think  I'm  with  her  in  the  other.  And  I'm  not.  I'm 
with  yow."  She  let  her  hand  find  his,  as  they  walked 
side  by  side,  and  gave  it  a  little  pressure. 

"  It's  the  greatest  thing,  Cynthy,"  he  said,  breath 
lessly,  "  to  have  you  with  me  in  that.  But  if  you  said 
I  ought  to  study  law,  I  should  do  it." 

"  I  shouldn't  say  that,  for  I  believe  you're  right ; 
but  even  if  I  believed  you  were  wrong,  I  shouldn't  say 
it.  You  have  a  right  to  make  your  life  what  you  want 
it ;  and  your  mother  hasn't.  Only  she  must  know  it, 
and  you  must  tell  her  at  once." 

"  At  once  2  " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  177 

"  Yes — now.  What  good  will  it  do  to  put  it  off  ? 
You're  not  afraid  to  tell  her  !  " 

"  I  don't  like  you  to  use  that  word." 

"  And  I  don't  like  to  use  it.  But  I  know  how  it  is. 
You're  afraid  that  the  brunt  of  it  will  come  on  me. 
She'll  think  you're  all  right,  but  I'm  all  wrong  because 
I  agree  with  you." 

"  Something  like  that." 

"  Well,  now,  I'm  not  afraid  of  anything  she  can 
say ;  and  what  could  she  do  ?  She  can't  part  us,  unless 
you  let  her,  and  then  /  should  let  her,  too." 

"  But  what's  the  hurry  ?  What's  the  need  of  doing 
it  right  off  ? " 

"Because  it's  a  deceit  not  to  do  it.     It's  a  lie  ! " 

"  I  don't  see  it  in  that  light.  I  might  change  my 
mind,  and  still  go  on  and  study  law." 

"  You  know  you  never  will.  Now,  Jeff  !  Why  do 
you  act  so  ? " 

Jeff  did  not  answer  at  once.  He  walked  beside  her 
with  a  face  of  trouble  that  finally  became  one  of  re 
solve  in  the  set  jaws.  "  I  guess  you're  right,  Cynthy. 
She's  got  to  know  the  worst,  and  the  sooner  she  knows 
it  the  better." 

"Yes!" 

He  had  another  moment  of  faltering.  "  You  don't 
want  I  should  talk  it  over  with  Mr.  Westover  ? " 

"  What  has  he  got  to  do  with  it? " 

"  That's  true  !  " 

"  If  you  want  to  see  it  in  the  right  light,  you  can 
think  you've  let  it  run  on  till  after  you're  out  of  col 
lege,  and  then  you've  got  to  tell  her.  Suppose  she 
L 


178  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

asked  you  how  long  you  had  made  up  your  mind 
against  the  law,  how  should  you  feel  ?  And  if  she 
asked  me  whether  I'd  known  it  all  along,  and  I  had  to 
say  I  had,  aud  that  I'd  supported  and  encouraged  you 
in  it,  how  should  /  feel  ?  " 

"  She  mightn't  ask  any  such  question,"  said  Jeff, 
gloomily.  Cynthia  gave  a  little  impatient  "  Oh  !  "  and 
he  hastened  to  add:  "  But  you're  right;  I've  got  to 
tell  her.  I'll  tell  her  to-night—" 

"  Don't  wait  till  to-night ;  do  it  now." 

"Now?" 

"  Yes ;  and  I'll  go  with  you  as  soon  as  I've  seen  the 
youngest  Miller  girl."  They  had  reached  the  helps' 
house  now,  and  Cynthia  said  :  "  You  wait  outside  here, 
and  I'll  go  right  back  with  you.  Oh,  I  hope  it  isn't 
doing  wrong  to  put  it  off  till  I've  seen  that  girl ! " 
She  disappeared  through  the  door,  and  Jeff  waited  by 
the  steps  outside,  plucking  up  one  long  grass  stem 
after  another,  and  biting  it  in  two.  AVhen  Cynthia 
came  out  she  said :  "  I  guess  she'll  be  all  right.  Now 
come,  and  don't  lose  another  second." 

"  You're  afraid  I  shaVt  do  it  if  I  wait  any  longer  ! " 

"  I'm  afraid  /  sha'n't."  There  was  a  silence  after 
this. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  think  of  you,  Cynthy  ? " 
asked  Jeff,  hurrying  to  keep  up  with  her  quick  steps. 
"  You've  got  more  courage — 

"  Oh,  don't  praise  me  or  I  shall  break  down  !  " 

"  I'll  sec  that  you  don't  break  down,"  said  Jeff,  ten 
derly.  "  It's  the  greatest  thing  to  have  you  go  with 


me  I 


i" 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  179 

"  Why  don't  you  see  ?  "  she  lamented.  "  If  you 
went  alone,  and  told  your  mother  that  I  approved  of 
it,  you  would  look  as  if  you  were  afraid,  and  wanted 
to  get  behind  me ;  and  I'm  not  going  to  have  that." 

They  found  Mrs.  Durgin  in  the  dark  entry  of  the 
old  farm-house,  and  Cynthia  said,  with  involuntary 
imperiousness,  "  Come  in  here,  Mrs.  Durgin ;  I  want 
to  tell  you  something." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  old  parlor,  and  she  checked 
Mrs.  Durgin's  question,  "  Has  that  Miller  girl— 

"  It  isn't  about  her,"  said  Cynthy,  pushing  the  door 
to.  "  It's  about  me — and  Jeff." 

Mrs.  Durgin  became  aware  of  Jeff's  presence  with 
an  effect  of  surprise.  "There  a'n't  anything  more, 
is  there  ? " 

"  Yes,  there  is  !  "  Cynthia  shrilled.     "  Now,  Jeff ! " 

"  It's  just  this,  mother.     Cynthy  thinks  I  ought  to 

tell  you — and  she  thinks  I  ought  to  have  told  you  last 

night — she  expected  me  to — that   I'm  not  going  to 

study  law." 

"  And  I  approve  of  his  not  doing  it,"  Cynthia 
promptly  followed,  and  she  put  herself  beside  Jeff 
where  he  stood  in  front  of  his  mother's  rocking-chair. 
She  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  faces  be 
fore  her.  "  I'm  sorry  a  son  of  mine,"  she  said,  with 
dignity,  "  had  to  be  told  how  to  act  with  his  mother. 
But  if  he  had,  I  don't  know  as  anybody  had  a  better 
right  to  do  it  than  the  girl  that's  going  to  marry  him. 
And  I'll  say  this,  Cynthia  Whitwell,  before  I  say 
anything  else :  you've  begun  right.  I  wish  I  could 
say  Jeff  had." 


180  THE    LANDLOItD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

There  was  an  uncomfortable  moment  before  Cynthia 
said,  "  He  expected  to  tell  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,"  said  his  mother,  sadly.  She 
added,  sharply,  "  And  did  he  expect  to  tell  me  what 
he  intended  to  do  for  a  livin'  ? " 

Jeff  took  the  word.  "  Yes,  I  did.  I  intend  to  keep 
a  hotel." 

"  What  hotel  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Durgin,  with  a  touch 
of  taunting  in  her  tone. 

"  This  one." 

The  mother  of  the  bold,  rebellious  boy  that  Jeff  had 
been  stirred  in  Mrs.  Durgin's  heart,  and  she  looked  at 
him  with  the  eyes  that  used  to  condone  his  mischief. 
But  she  said,  "  I  guess  you'll  find  out  that  there's 
more  than  one  has  to  agree  to  that." 

"  Yes,  there  are  two ;  you  and  Jackson ;  and  I  don't 
know  but  what  three,  if  you  count  Cynthy,  here." 

His  mother  turned  to  the  girl.  "  You  think  this 
fellow's  got  sense  enough  to  keep  a  hotel  ? " 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Durgin,  I  do.  I  think  he's  got  good 
ideas  about  a  hotel." 

"  And  what's  he  goin'  to  do  with  his  college  educa 
tion  ? " 

Jeff  interposed.  "  You  think  that  all  the  college 
graduates  turn  out  lawyers  and  doctors  and  profess 
ors  ?  Some  of  'em  are  mighty  glad  to  sweep  out  banks 
in  hopes  of  a  clerkship ;  and  some  take  any  sort  of  a 
place  in  a  mill  or  a  business  house,  to  work  up ;  and 
some  bum  round  out  West  on  cattle  ranches ;  and 
some,  if  they're  lucky,  get  newspaper  reporters'  places 
at  ten  dollars  a  week." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  181 

Cynthia  followed  with  the  generalization  :  "  I  don't 
believe  anybody  can  know  too  much  to  keep  a  hotel. 
It  won't  hurt  Jeff  if  he's  been  to  Harvard,  or  to 
Europe,  either." 

"  I  guess  there's  a  pair  of  you,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin, 
with  superficial  contempt.  She  was  silent  for  a  time, 
and  they  waited.  "  Well,  there  ! "  she  broke  out 
again.  "  I've  got  something  to  chew  upon  for  a  spell, 
I  guess.  Go  along,  now,  both  of  you  !  And  the  next 
time  you've  got  to  face  your  mother,  Jeff,  don't  you 
come  in  lookin'  round  anybody's  petticoats  !  I'll  see 
you  later  about  all  this." 

They  went  away  with  the  joyful  shame  of  children 
who  have  escaped  punishment. 

"  That's  the  last  of  it,  Cynthy,"  said  Jeff. 

"  I  guess  so,"  the  girl  assented,  with  a  certain  grief 
in  her  voice.  "  I  wish  you  had  told  her  first !  " 

"  Oh,  never  mind  that  now  !  "  cried  Jeff,  and  in  the 
dim  passageway  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed 
her. 

He  would  have  released  her,  but  she  lingered  in  his 
embrace.  "  Will  you  promise  that  if  there's  ever 
anything  like  it  again,  you  won't  wait  for  me  to  make 
you  ? " 

"I  like  your  having  made  me,  but  I  promise,"  he 
said. 

Then  she  tightened  her  arms  round  his  neck  and 
kissed  him. 


XXV. 

THE  will  of  Jeff's  mother  relaxed  its  grip  upon  the 
purpose  so  long  held,  as  if  the  mere  strain  of  the  te 
nacity  had  wearied  and  weakened  it.  When  it  finally 
appeared  that  her  ambition  for  her  son  was  not  his 
ambition  for  himself  and  would  never  be,  she  aban 
doned  it.  Perhaps  it  was  the  easier  for  her  to  forego 
her  hopes  of  his  distinction  in  the  world,  because  she 
had  learned  before  that  she  must  forego  her  hopes  of 
him  in  other  ways.  She  had  vaguely  fancied  that  with 
the  acquaintance  his  career  at  Harvard  would  open  to 
him  Jeff  would  make  a  splendid  marriage.  She  had 
followed  darkling  and  stumbling  his  course  in  society 
as  far  as  he  would  report  it  to  her,  and  when  he  would 
not  suffer  her  to  glory  in  it,  she  believed  that  he  was 
forbidding  her  from  a  pride  that  would  not  recognize 
anything  out  of  the  common  in  it.  She  exulted  in  his 
pride,  and  she  took  all  his  snubbing  reserves  tenderly, 
as  so  many  proofs  of  his  success. 

At  the  bottom  of  her  heart  she  had  both  fear  and 
contempt  of  all  towns-people,  whom  she  generalized 
from  her  experience  of  them  as  summer-folks  of  a 
greater  or  lesser  silliness.  She  often  found  herself 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  183 

unable  to  cope  with  them,  even  when  she  felt  that  she 
had  twice  their  sense;  she  perceived  that  they  had 
something  from  their  training  that  with  all  her  un 
disciplined  force  she  could  never  hope  to  win  from  her 
own  environment.  But  she  believed  that  her  son 
would  have  the  advantages  which  baffled  her  in  them, 
for  he  would  have  their  environment;  and  she  had 
wished  him  to  rivet  his  hold  upon  those  advantages 
by  taking  a  wife  from  among  them,  and  by  living  the 
life  of  their  world.  Her  wishes,  of  course,  had  no 
such  distinct  formulation,  and  the.  feeling  she  had 
towards  Cynthia  as  a  possible  barrier  to  her  ambition 
had  no  more  definition.  There  had  been  times  when 
the  fitness  of  her  marriage  with  Jeff  had  moved  the 
mother's  heart  to  a  jealousy  that  she  always  kept 
silent,  while  she  hoped  for  the  accident  or  the  provi 
dence  which  should  annul  the  danger.  But  Genevieve 
Vostrand  had  not  been  the  kind  of  accident  or  prov 
idence  that  she  would  have  invoked,  and  when  she 
saw  Jeff's  fancy  turning  towards  her,  Mrs.  Durgin  had 
veered  round  to  Cynth'ia.  All  the  same  she  kept  a 
keen  eye  upon  the  young  ladies  among  the  summer- 
folks  who  came  to  Lion's  Head,  and  tacitly  canvassed 
their  merits  and  inclinations  with  respect  to  Jeff  in 
the  often-imagined  event  of  his  caring  for  any  one  of 
them.  She  found  that  her  artfully  casual  references 
to  her  son's  being  in  Harvard  scarcely  affected  their 
mothers  in  the  right  way.  The  fact  made  them  think 
of  the  head  waiters  whom  they  had  met  at  other  ho 
tels,  and  who  were  working  their  way  through  Dart 
mouth  or  Williams  or  'Yale,  and  it  required  all  the 


184  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

force  of  Jeff's  robust  personality  to  dissipate  their 
erroneous  impressions  of  him.  lie  took  their  daught 
ers  out  of  their  arms  and  from  under  their  noses  on 
long  drives  upon  his  buckboard,  and  it  became  a  con 
vention  with  them  to  treat  his  attentions  somewhat 
like  those  of  a  powerful  but  faithful  vassal. 

Whether  he  was  indifferent,  or  whether  the  young 
ladies  were  coy,  none  of  these  official  flirtations  came 
to  anything.  He  seemed  not  to  care  for  one  more 
than  another ;  he  laughed  and  joked  with  them  all,  and 
had  an  official  manner  with  each  which  served  some 
what  like  a  disparity  of  years  in  putting  them  at  their 
ease  with  him.  They  agreed  that  he  was  very  hand 
some,  and  some  thought  him  very  talented ;  but  they 
questioned  whether  he  was  quite  what  you  would  call 
a  gentleman.  It  is  true  that  this  misgiving  attacked 
them  mostly  in  the  mass ;  singly,  they  were  little  or 
not  at  all  troubled  by  it,  and  they  severally  behaved 
in  an  unprincipled  indifference  to  it. 

Mrs.  Durgin  had  the  courage  of  her  own  purposes, 
but  she  had  the  fear  of  Jeff's.  •  After  the  first  pang  of 
the  disappointment  which  took  final  shape  from  his 
declaration  that  he  was  going  to  marry  Cynthia,  she 
did  not  really  care  much.  She  had  the  habit  of  the  girl ; 
she  respected  her,  she  even  loved  her.  The  children, 
as  she  thought  of  them,  had  known  each  other  from 
their  earliest  days;  Jeff  had  persecuted  Cynthia 
throughout  his  graceless  boyhood,  but  he  had  never 
intimidated  her;  and  his  mother,  with  all  her  weak 
ness  for  him,  felt  that  it  was  well  for  him  that  his  wife 
should  be  brave  enough  to  stand  up  against  him. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  185 

She  formulated  this  feeling  no  more  than  the  others, 
but  she  said  to  Wcstover,  whom  Jeff  bade  her  tell  of 
the  engagement :  "  It  a'n't  exactly  as  I  could  'a'  wished 
it  to  be.  But  I  don't  know  as  mothers  are  ever  quite 
suited  with  their  children's  marriages.  I  presume  it's 
from  always  kind  of  havin'.  had  her  round  under  my 
feet  ever  since  she  was  born,  as  you  may  say,  and 
seein'  her  family  always  so  shiftless.  Well,  I  can't 
say  that  of  Frank,  either.  He's  turned  out  a  fine  boy ; 
but  the  father !  Cynthy  is  one  of  the  most  capable  girls, 
smart  as  a  trap,  and  bright  as  a  biscuit.  She's  master 
ful,  too ;  she  need  to  have  a  will  of  her  own  with 
Jeff." 

Something  of  the  insensate  pride  that  mothers  have 
in  their  children's  faults,  as  their  quick  tempers,  or 
their  wastefulness,  or  their  revengefulness,  expressed 
itself  in  her  tone ;  and  it  was  perhaps  this  that  irri 
tated  Westover. 

"  I  hope  he'll  never  let  her  know  it.  I  don't  think 
a  strong  will  is  a  thing  to  be  prized,  and  I  shouldn't 
consider  it  one  of  Cynthia's  good  points.  The  happi 
est  life  for  her  would  be  one  that  never  forced  her  to 
use  it." 

"I  don't  know  as  I  understand  you  exactly,"  said 
Mrs.  Durgin,  with  some  dryness.  "  I  know  Jeff's  got 
rather  of  a  domineering  disposition,  but  I  don't  be 
lieve  but  she  can  manage  him  without  meetin'  him  on 
his  own  ground,  as  you  may  say." 

"  She's  a  girl  in  a  thousand,"  Westover  returned, 
evasively. 

"  Then  you  think  he's  shown  sense  in  choosin'  of 


186  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

her  ? "  pursued  Jeff's  mother,  resolute  to  find  some 
praise  of  him  in  Westover's  words. 

"  He's  a  very  fortunate  man,"  said  the  painter. 

"  Well,  I  guess  you're  right,"  Mrs.  Durgin  acqui 
esced,  as  much  to  Jeff's  advantage  as  she  could.  "  You 
know  I  was  always  afraid  he  would  make  a  fool  of  him 
self,  but  I  guess  he's  kept  his  eyes  pretty  well  open  all 
the  while.  Well !  "  She  closed  the  subject  with  this 
exclamation.  "  Him  and  Cynthy's  been  at  me  about 
Jackson,"  she  added,  abruptly.  "  They've  cooked  it 
up  between  'em  that  he's  out  of  health,  or  run  down, 
or  something." 

Her  manner  referred  the  matter  to.Westover,  and 
lie  said :  "  He  isn't  looking  so  well  this  summer.  He 
ought  to  go  away  somewhere." 

"That's  what  they  thought,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin, 
smiling  in  her  pleasure  at  having  their  opinion  con 
firmed  by  the  old  and  valued  friend  of  the  family. 
"  Whereabouts  do  you  think  he'd  best  go  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.      Italy— or  Egypt—" 

"  I  guess  if  you  could  get  Jackson  to  go  away  at  all, 
it  would  be  to  some  of  them  old  Bible  countries,"  said 
Mrs.  Durgin.  "  We've  got  to  have  a  fight  to  get  him 
off,  make  the  best  of  it,  and  I've  thought  it  over  since 
the  children  spoke  about  it,  and  I  couldn't  seem  to  see 
Jackson  willin'  to  go  out  to  Calif orny  or  Colorady,  to 
either  of  his  brothers.  But  I  guess  he  would  go  to 
Egypt.  That  a  good  climate  for  the — his  com 
plaint  ? " 

She  entered  eagerly  into  the  question,  and  West- 
over  promised  to  write  to  a  Boston  doctor,  whom  he 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  187 

knew  very  well,  and  report  Jackson's  case  to  him,  and 
get  his  views  of  Ecrypt. 

"  Tell  him  how  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin,  "  and  the 
tussle  we  shall  have  to  have  anyway  to  make  Jackson 
believe  he'd  ought  to  have  a  rest.  He'll  go  to  Egypt 
if  he'll  go  anywheres,  because  his  mind  keeps  runnin' 
on  Bible  questions,  and  it  '11  interest  him  to  go  out 
there ;  and  we  can  make  him  believe  it's  just  to  bange 
around  for  the  winter.  He's  terrible  hopeful."  Now 
that  she  began  to  speak,  all  her  long-repressed  anxiety 
poured  itself  out,  and  she  hitched  her  chair  nearer  to 
Westover  and  wistfully  clutched  his  sleeve.  "  That's 
the  worst  of  Jackson.  You  can't  make  him  believe  ariy- 
thing's  the  matter.  Sometimes  I  can't  bear  to  hear  him 
go  on  about  himself  as  if  he  was  a  well  young  man. 
He  expects  that  medium's  stuff  is  goin'  to  cure  him  !  " 

"  People  sick  in  that  way  are  always  hopeful,"  said 
Westover. 

"  Oh,  don't  I  know  it !  Ha'n't  I  seen  my  children 
and  my  husband—  Oh,  do  ask  that  doctor  to  answer 
as  quick  as  he  can  !  " 


XXVI. 

WESTOVER  had  a  difficulty  in  congratulating  Jeff 
which  he  could  scarcely  define  to  himself,  but  which 
was  like  that  obscure  resentment  we  feel  towards  peo 
ple  whom  we  think  unequal  to  their  good  fortune.  He 
was  ashamed  of  his  grudge,  whatever  it  was,  and  this 
may  have  made  him  overdo  his  expressions  of  pleas 
ure.  He  was  sensible  of  a  false  cordiality  in  them, 
and  he  checked  himself  in  a  flow  of  forced  sentiment 
to  say,  more  honestly :  "  I  wish  you'd  speak  to  Cyn 
thia  for  me.  You  know  how  much  I  think  of  her,  and 
how  much  I  want  to  see  her  happy.  You  ought  to 
be  a  very  good  fellow,  Jeff !  " 

"  I'll  tell  her  that;  she'll  like  that,"  said  Jeff.  "  She 
thinks  the  world  of  you." 

"  Does  she  ?     Well !  " 

"  And  I  guess  she'll  be  glad  you  sent  word.  She's 
been  wondering  what  you  would  say ;  she's  always  so 
afraid  of  you." 

"Is  she?  You're  not  afraid  of  me,  are  you?  But 
perhaps  you  don't  think  so  much  of  me." 

"  I  guess  Cynthia  and  I  think  alike  on  that  point," 
said  Jeff,  without  abating  Westover's  discomfort. 

There  was  a  stress  of  sharp  cold  that  year  about  the 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  189 

20th  of  August.  Then  the  weather  turned  warm  again, 
and  held  fine  till  the  beginning  of  October,  within  a 
week  of  the  time  when  Jackson  was  to  sail.  It  had 
not  been  so  hard  to  make  him  consent  when  he  knew 
where  the  doctor  wished  him  to  go,  and  he  had  will 
ingly  profited  by  Westover's  suggestions  about  getting 
to  Egypt.  His  interest  in  the  matter,  which  he  tried 
to  hide  at  first  under  a  mask  of  decorous  indifference, 
mounted  with  the  fire  of  Whitwell's  enthusiasm,  and 
they  held  nightly  councils  together,  studying  his  course 
on  the  map,  and  consulting  planchette  upon  the  points 
at  variance  that  rose  between  them,  while  Jombateeste 
sat  with  his  chair  tilted  against  the  wall,  and  pulled 
steadily  at  his  pipe,  which  mixed  its  strong  fumes  with 
the  smell  of  the  kerosene  lamp  and  the  perennial  odor 
of  potatoes  in  the  cellar  under  the  low  room  where  the 
companions  forgathered. 

Towards  the  end  of  September  Westover  spent  the 
night  before  he  went  back  to  town  with  them.  After 
a  season  with  planchette,  their  host  pushed  himself 
back  with  his  knees  from  the  table  till  his  chair  reared 
upon  its  hind-legs,  and  shoved  his  hat  up  from  his 
forehead  in  token  of  a  philosophical  mood. 

"I  tell  you,  Jackson,"  he  said,  "you'd  ought  to 
get  hold  o'  some  them  occult  devils  out  there,  and 
squeeze  their  science  out  of  'em.  Any  Buddhists  in 
Egypt,  Mr.  Westover?" 

"  I  don't  think  there  are,"  said  Westover.  "Un 
less  Jackson  should  come  across  some  wandering  Hin 
doo.  Or  he  might  push  on,  and  come  home  by  the 
way  of  India." 


190  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Do  it,  Jackson  !  "  his  friend  conjured  him.  "  May 
cost  you  something  more,  but  it  '11  be  worth  the  money. 
If  it's  true,  what  some  them  Blavetsky  fellers  claim, 
you  can  visit  us  here  in  your  astral  body — git  in  with 
'em  the  right  way.  I  should  like  to  have  you  try  it. 
What's  the  reason  India  wouldn't  be  as  good  for  him 
as  Egypt,  anyway  ? "  Whitwell  demanded  of  Westover. 

"  I  suppose  the  climate's  rather  too  moist;  the  heat 
would  be  rather  trying  to  him  there." 

"  That  so  ?  " 

"And  he's  taken  his  ticket  for  Alexandria,"  West- 
over  pursued. 

"Well,  I  guess  that's  so."  Whitwell  tilted  his 
backward  sloping  hat  to  one  side,  so  as  to  scratch  the 
northeast  corner  of  his  head,  thoughtfully. 

"  But  as  far  as  that  is  concerned,"  said  Westover, 
"  and  the  doctrine  of  immortality  generally  is  con 
cerned,  Jackson  will  have  his  hands  full  if  he  studies 
the  Egyptian  monuments." 

"  What  they  got  to  do  with  it? " 

"  Everything.  Egypt  is  the  home  of  the  belief  in  a 
future  life  ;  it  was  carried  from  Egypt  to  Greece.  He 
might  come  home  by  way  of  Athens." 

"  Why,  man  !  "  cried  Whitwell.  "  Do  you  mean  to 
say  that  them  old  Hebrew  saints,  Joseph's  brethren, 
that  went  down  into  Egypt  after  corn,  didn't  know 
about  immortality,  and  them  Egyptian  devils  did  ?  " 

"  There's  very  little  proof  in  the  Old  Testament  that 
the  Israelites  knew  of  it." 

Whitwell  looked  at  Jackson.  "  That  the  idee  you 
got?" 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  191 

"  I  guess  he's  right,"  said  Jackson.  "  There's  some 
thing  a  little  about  it  in  Job,  and  something  in  the 
Psalms:  but  not  a  great  deal." 

"  And  we  got  it  from  them  Egyptian  d — 

"I  don't  say  that,"  Westover  interposed.  "But 
they  had  it  before  we  had.  As  we  imagine  it,  we  got 
it  through  Christianity." 

Jombateeste,  who  had  taken  his  pipe  out  of  his 
mouth  in  a  controversial  manner,  put  it  back  again. 

Westover  added,  "  But  there's  no  question  but  the 
Egyptians  believed  in  the  life  hereafter,  and  in  future 
rewards  and  punishments  for  the  deeds  done  in  the 
body,  thousands  of  years  before  our  era." 

"  Well,  I'm  dimmed,"  said  Whitwell. 

Jombateeste  took  his  pipe  out  again.  "  Hit  show 
they  got  good  sense.  They  know — they  feel  it  in 
their  bone — what  goin'  'appen — when  you  dead.  Me, 
I  guess  they  got  some  prophet  find  it  liout  for  them  ; 
then  they  goin'  take  the  credit." 

"  I  guess  that's  something  so,  Jombateeste,"  said 
Whitwell.  "  It  don't  stand  to  reason  that  folks  with 
out  any  alphabet,  as  you  may  say,  and  only  a  lot  of 
pictures  for  words,  like  Injuns,  could  figure  out  the 
immortality  of  the  soul.  They  got  the  idee  by  inspi 
ration  somehow.  Why,  here  !  It's  like  this.  Them 
Pharaohs  must  have  always  been  clawin'  out  for  the 
Hebrews  before  they  got  a  hold  of  Joseph,  and  when 
they  found  out  the  true  doctrine,  they  hushed  up 
where  they  got  it,  and  their  priests  went  on  teachin' 
it  as  if  it  was  their  own." 

"  That's  w'at  I  say.     Got  it  from  the  'Ebrew." 


192  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Well,  it  don't  matter  a  great  deal  where  they  got 
it,  so  they  got  it,"  said  Jackson,  as  he  rose. 

"  I  believe  I'll  go  with  you,"  said  Westover. 

"  All  there  is  about  it,"  said  the  sick  man,  solemnly, 
with  a  frail  effort  to  straighten  himself,  to  which  his 
sunken  chest  would  not  respond,  "  is  this.  No  man 
ever  did  figure  that  out  for  himself.  A  man  sees  folks 
die,  and  as  far  as  his  senses  go,  they  don't  live  again. 
But  somehow  he  knows  they  do  ;  and  his  knowledge 
comes  from  somewhere  else ;  it's  inspired — " 

"  That's  w'at  I  say,"  Jombateeste  hastened  to  in 
terpose.  "  Got  it  from  the  'Ebrew.  Feel  it  in  'is 
bone." 

Out  under  the  stars  Jackson  and  Westover  silently 
mounted  the  hill-side  together.  At  one  of  the  thank- 
you-marms  in  the  road,  the  sick  man  stopped,  like  a 
weary  horse,  to  breathe.  He  took  off  his  hat,  and 
wiped  the  sweat  of  weakness  that  had  gathered  upon 
his  forehead,  and  looked  round  the  sky,  powdered 
with  the  constellations  and  the  planets.  "  It's  sight 
ly,"  he  whispered. 

"Yes,  it  is  fine,"  Westover  assented.  "But  the 
stars  of  our  Northern  nights  are  nothing  to  what  you'll 
see  in  Egypt." 

Jackson  repeated  vaguely :  "  Egypt !  Where  I  should 
like  to  go  is  Mars."  He  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  flaming 
planet,  in  a  long  stare.  "  But  I  suppose  they  have 
their  own  troubles,  same  as  we  do.  They  must  get 
sick  and  die,  like  the  rest  of  us.  But  I  should  like  to 
know  more  about  'em.  You  believe  it's  inhabited, 
don't  you  ? " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  193 

Westover's  agnosticism  did  not,  somehow,  extend 
to  Mars.  "  Yes,  I've  no  doubt  of  it." 

Jackson  seemed  pleased.  "  I've  read  everything  1 
can  lay  my  hands  on  about  it.  I've  got  a  notion  that 
if  there's  any  choosin',  after  we  get  through  here,  I 
should  like  to  go  to  Mars  for  a  while,  or  as  long  as  I 
was  a  little  homesick  still,  and  wanted  to  keep  as  near 
the  earth  as  I  could,"  he  added,  quaintly. 

Westover  laughed.  "  You  could  study  up  the  sub 
ject  of  irrigation,  there ;  they  say  that's  what  keeps 
the  parallel  markings  green  on  Mars ;  and  telegraph  a 
few  hints  to  your  brother  in  Colorado,  after  the  Mar 
tians  perfect  their  signal  code." 

Perhaps  the  invalid's  fancy  nagged.  He  drew  a 
long,  ragged  breath.  "  I  don't  know  as  I  care  to  leave 
home,  much.  If  it  wa'n't  a  kind  of  duty,  I  shouldn't." 
He  seemed  impelled  by  a  sudden  need  to  say,  "  How 
do  you  think  Jefferson  and  mother  will  make  it  out 
together  ? " 

"  I've  no  doubt  they'll  manage,"  said  Westover. 

"  They're  a  good  deal  alike,"  Jackson  suggested. 

Westover  preferred  not  to  meet  his  overture. 
"  You'll  be  back,  you  know,  almost  as  soon  as  the 
season  commences,  next  summer." 

"Yes,"  Jackson  assented,  more  cheerfully.  "And 
now,  Cynthy's  sure  to  be  here." 

"Yes,  she  will  be  here,"  said  Westover,  not  so 
cheerfully. 

Jackson  seemed  to  find  the  opening  he  was  seeking, 
in  Westover's  tone.     "  What  do  you  think  of  gettin' 
married,  anyway,  Mr.  Westover?"  he  asked. 
M 


194  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  We  haven't  either  of  us  thought  so  well  of  it  as 
to  try  it,  Jackson,"  said  the  painter,  jocosely. 

"  Think  it's  a  kind  of  chance  ?  " 

"  It's  a  chance." 

Jackson  was  silent.  Then,  "  I  a'n't  one  of  them," 
he  said,  abruptly,  "  that  think  a  man's  goin'  to  be 
made  over  by  marryin'  this  woman  or  that.  If  he 
a'n't  goin'  to  be  the  right  kind  of  a  man  himself,  ha 
a'n't  because  his  wife's  a  good  woman.  Sometimes  I 
think  that  a  man's  wife  is  the  last  person  in  the  world 
that  can  change  his  disposition.  She  can  influence 
him  about  this  and  about  that,  but  she  can't  change 
him.  It  seems  as  if  he  couldn't  let  her,  if  he  tried, 
and  after  the  first  start-off  he  don't  try." 

"That's  true,"  Westover  assented.  "We're  terri 
bly  inflexible.  Nothing  but  something  like  a  change 
of  heart,  as  they  used  to  call  it,  can  make  us  different, 
and  even  then  we're  apt  to  go  back  to  our  old  shape. 
When  you  look  at  it  in  that  light,  marriage  seems 
impossible.  Yet  it  takes  place  every  day  !  " 

"  It's  a  great  risk  for  a  woman,"  said  Jackson,  put 
ting  on  his  hat  and  stirring  for  an  onward  movement. 
"  But  I  presume  that  if  the  man  is  honest  with  her 
it's  the  best  thing  she  can  have.  The  great  trouble  is 
for  the  man  to  be  honest  with  her." 

"  Honesty  is  difficult,"  said  Westover. 

He  made  Jackson  promise  to  spend  a  day  with  him 
in  Boston,  on  his  way  to  take  the  Mediterranean  steam 
er  at  New  York.  AVhen  they  met  he  yielded  to  an 
impulse  which  the  invalid's  forlornness  inspired,  and 
went  on  to  see  him  off.  He  was  glad  that  he  did  that, 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  195 

for  though  Jackson  was  not  sad  at  parting,  he  was 
visibly  touched  by  Westover's  kindness. 

Of  course  he  talked  away  from  it.  "  I  guess  I've 
left  'em  in  pretty  good  shape  for  the  winter  at  Lion's 
Head,"  he  said.  "  I've  got  Whitwell  to  agree  to  come 
up  and  live  in  the  house  with  mother,  and  she'll  have 
Cynthy  with  her,  anyway ;  and  Frank  and  Jombateeste 
can  look  after  the  hosses  easy  enough." 

He  had  said  something  like  this  before,  but  West- 
over  could  see  that  it  comforted  him  to  repeat  it,  and 
he  encouraged  him  to  do  so  in  full.  He  made  him 
talk  about  getting  home  in  the  spring,  after  the  frost 
was  out  of  the  ground,  but  he  questioned  involuntarily, 
while  the  sick  man  spoke,  whether  he  might  not  then 
be  lying  under  the  sands  that  had  never  known  a  frost 
since  the  glacial  epoch.  When  the  last  warning  for 
visitors  to  go  ashore  came,  Jackson  said,  with  a  wan 
smile,  while  he  held  Westover's  hand,  "  I  sha'n't  for 
get  this  very  soon." 

"  Write  to  me,"  said  Westover. 


XXVII. 

JACKSON  kept  his  promise  to  write  to  Westover,  but 
he  was  better  than  his  word  to  his  mother,  and  wrote 
to  her  every  week  that  winter. 

"  I  seern  just  to  live  from  letter  to  letter.  It's  ridic- 
'lous,"  she  said  to  Cynthia  once  when  the  girl  brought 
the  mail  in  from  the  barn,  where  the  men-folks  kept 
it  till  they  had  put  away  their  horses  after  driving 
over  from  Lovewell  with  it.  The  trains  on  the  branch 
road  were  taken  off  in  the  winter,  and  the  post-office 
at  the  hotel  was  discontinued.  The  men  had  to  go  to 
the  town  by  cutter,  over  a  highway  that  the  winds 
sifted  half  full  of  snow  after  it  had  been  broken  out 
by  the  ox-teams  in  the  morning.  But  Mrs.  Durgin 
had  studied  the  steamer  days  and  calculated  the  time 
it  would  take  letters  to  come  from  New  York  to  Love- 
well  ;  and,  unless  a  blizzard  was  raging,  some  one  had 
to  go  for  the  mail  when  the  day  came.  It  was  usually 
Jombateeste,  who  reverted  in  winter  to  the  type  of 
habitant  from  which  he  had  sprung.  He  wore  a  blue 
woollen  cap,  like  a  large  sock,  pulled  over  his  ears  and 
close  to  his  eyes,  and  below  it  his  clean-shaven  brown 
face  showed.  He  had  blue  woollen  mittens,  and  boots 
of  russet  leather,  without  heels,  came  to  his  knees ;  he 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  197 

got  a  pair  every  time  he  went  home  on  St.  John's  day. 
His  lean  little  body  was  swathed  in  several  short  jack 
ets,  and  he  brought  the  letters  buttoned  into  one  of 
the  innermost  pockets.  He  produced  the  letter  from 
Jackson  promptly  enough  when  Cynthia  came  out  to 
the  barn  for  it,  and  then  he  made  a  show  of  getting 
his  horse  out  of  the  cutter  shafts,  and  shouting  inter 
national  reproaches  at  it,  till  she  was  forced  to  ask, 
"  Haven't  you  got  something  for  me,  Jombateeste  ? " 

"  You  expec'  some  letter  ?  "  he  said,  unbuckling  a 
strap  and  shouting  louder. 

"  You  know  whether  I  do.     Give  it  to  me." 

"  I  don'  know.  I  think  I  drop  something  on  the 
road.  I  saw  something  white;  maybe  snow;  good 
deal  of  snow." 

"  Don't  plague  !     Give  it  here  !  " 

"  Wait  I  finish  unhitch.  I  can't  find  any  letter  till 
I  get  some  time  to  look." 

"  Oh,  now,  Jombateeste  !      Give  me  my  letter  !  " 

"  Wat  you  want  letter  for  ?  Always  same  thing. 
Well !  'Old  the  'oss;  I  goin'  to  feel." 

Jombateeste  felt  in  one  pocket  after  another,  while 
Cynthia  clung  to  the  colt's  bridle,  and  he  was  uncer 
tain  till  the  last  whether  he  had  any  letter  for  her. 
When  it  appeared  she  made  a  flying  snatch  at  it,  and 
ran  ;  and  the  comedy  was  over,  to  be  repeated  in  some 
form  the  next  week. 

The  girl  somehow  always  possessed  herself  of  what 
was  in  her  letters  before  she  reached  the  room  where 
Mrs.  Durgin  was  waiting  for  hers.  She  had  to  read 
that  aloud  to  Jackson's  mother,  and  in  the  evening  she 


198  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

had  to  read  it  again  to  Mrs.  Durgin,  and  Whitwcll  and 
Jombateeste  and  Frank,  after  they  had  done  their 
chores,  and  they  had  gathered  in  the  old  farm-house 
parlor,  around  the  air-tight  sheet-iron  stove,  in  a  heat 
of  eighty  degrees.  Whitwell  listened,  with  planch ette 
ready  on  the  table  before  him,  and  he  consulted  it  for 
telepathic  impressions  of  Jackson's  actual  mental  state 
when  the  reading  was  over. 

He  got  very  little  out  of  the  perverse  instrument. 
"  I  can't  seem  to  work  her.  If  Jackson  was  here — " 

"  We  shouldn't  need  to  ask  plantchette  about  him," 
Cynthia  once  suggested,  with  the  spare  sense  of  humor 
that  sometimes  revealed  itself  in  her. 

"Well,  I  guess  that's  something  so,"  her  father 
candidly  admitted.  But  the  next  time  he  consulted 
the  helpless  planch  ette  as  hopefully  as  before.  "You 
can't  tell,  you  can't  tell,"  he  urged. 

"The  trouble  seems  to  be  that  plantchette  can't 
tell,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin,  and  they  all  laughed.  They 
were  not  people  who  laughed  a  great  deal,  and  they 
were  each  intent  upon  some  point  in  the  future  that 
kept  them  from  pleasure  in  the  present.  The  little 
Canuck  was  the  only  one  who  suffered  himself  a  con 
temporaneous  consolation.  His  early  faith  had  so  far 
lapsed  from  him  that  he  could  hospitably  entertain  the 
wild  psychical  conjectures  of  Whitwell  without  an  ac 
cusing  sense  of  heresy,  and  he  found  the  winter  of 
northern  New  England  so  mild  after  that  of  Lower 
Canada  that  he  experienced  a  high  degree  of  animal 
comfort  in  it,  and  looked  forward  to  nothing  better. 
To  be  well  fed,  well  housed,  and  well  heated  ;  to  smoke 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  199 

successive  pipes  while  the  others  talked,  and  to  catch 
through  his  smoke  wreath's  vague  glimpses  of  their 
meanings,  was  enough.  He  felt  that  in  being  pro 
moted  to  the  care  of  the  stables  in  Jackson's  absence 
he  occupied  a  dignified  and  responsible  position,  with 
a  confidential  relation  to  the  exile  which  justified  him 
in  sending  special  messages  to  him,  and  attaching  pe 
culiar  value  to  Jackson's  remembrances. 

The  exile's  letters  said  very  little  about  his  health, 
which  in  the  sense  of  no  news  his  mother  held  to  be 
good  news,  but  they  were  full  concerning  the  monu 
ments  and  the  ethnological  interest  of  life  in  Egypt. 
They  were  largely  rescripts  of  each  clay's  observations 
and  experiences,  close  and  full,  as  his  mother  liked 
them  in  regard  to  fact,  and  generously  philosophized 
on  the  side  of  politics  and  religion  for  Whitwell.  The 
Eastern  question  became  in  the  snow-choked  hills  of 
New  England  the  engrossing  concern  of  this  specula 
tive  mind,  and  he  was  apt  to  spring  it  upon  Mrs.  Dur- 
gin  and  Cynthia  at  meal-times  and  other  defenceless 
moments.  He  tried  to  debate  it  with  Jombateeste, 
who  conceived  of  it  as  a  form  of  spiritualistic  inquiry, 
and  answered  from  the  hay-loft,  where  he  was  throw 
ing  down  fodder  for  the  cattle  to  Whitwell,  volubly 
receiving  it  on  the  barn  floor  below,  that  he  believed, 
him,  everybody  got  a  hastral  body,  English  same  as 
Mormons. 

"  Guess  you  mean  Moslems,"  said  Whitwell,  and 
Jombateeste  asked  the  difference,  defiantly. 

The  letters  which  came  to  Cynthia  could  not  be 
made  as  much  a  general  interest,  and,  in  fact,  no  one 


200  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

else  cared  so  much  for  them  as  for  Jackson's  letters, 
not  even  Jeff's  mother.  After  Cynthia  got  one  of 
them,  she  would  ask,  perfunctorily,  what  Jeff  said,  but 
when  she  was  told  there  was  no  news  she  did  not 
press  her  question. 

"  If  Jackson  don't  get  back  in  time  next  summer," 
Mrs.  Durgin  said,  in  one  of  the  talks  she  had  with  the 
girl,  "  I  guess  I  shall  have  to  let  Jeff  and  you  run  the 
house  alone." 

"I  guess  we  shall  want  a  little  help  from  you," 
said  Cynthia,  demurely.  She  did  not  refuse  the  im 
plication  of  Mrs.  Durgin's  words,  but  she  would  not 
assume  that  there  was  more  in  them  than  they  ex 
pressed. 

When  Jeff  came  home  for  the  three  days'  vacation 
at  Thanksgiving,  he  wished  again  to  relinquish  his 
last  year  at  Harvard,  and  Cynthia  had  to  summon  all 
her  forces  to  keep  him  to  his  promise  of  staying.  He 
brought  home  the  books  with  which  he  was  working 
off  his  conditions,  with  a  half-hearted  intention  of 
study,  and  she  took  hold  with  him,  and  together  they 
fought  forward  over  the  ground  he  had  to  gain.  His 
mother  was  almost  willing  at  last  that  he  should  give 
up  his  last  year  in  college. 

"  What  is  the  use  ? "  she  asked.  "  He's  give  up 
the  law,  and  he  might  as  well  commence  here  first  as 
last,  if  he's  goin'  to." 

The  girl  had  no  reason  to  urge  against  this ;  she 
could  only  urge  her  feeling  that  he  ought  to  go  back, 
and  take  his  degree  with  the  rest  of  his  class. 

"  If  you're  going  to  keep  Lion's  Head  the  way  you 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  201 

pretend  you  are,"  she  said  to  him,  as  she  could  not 
say  to  his  mother,  "  you  want  to  keep  all  your  Har 
vard  friends,  don't  you,  and  have  them  remember  you? 
Go  back,  Jeff,  and  don't  you  come  here  again  till  after 
you've  got  your  degree.  Never  mind  the  Christmas 
vacation,  nor  the  Easter.  Stay  in  Cambridge,  and 
work  off  your  conditions.  You  can  do  it,  if  you  try. 
Oh,  don't  you  suppose  /  should  like  to  have  you 
here  ?  "  she  reproached  him. 

He  went  back,  with  a  kind  of  grudge  in  his  heart, 
which  he  confessed  in  his  first  letter  home  to  her, 
when  he  told  her  that  she  was  right  and  he  was 
wrong.  He  was  sure  now,  with  the  impulse  which 
their  work  on  them  in  common  had  given  him,  that 
he  should  get  his  conditions  off,  and  he  wanted  her 
and  his  mother  to  begin  preparing  their  minds  to 
come  to  his  Class  Day.  He  planned  how  they  could 
both  be  away  from  the  hotel  for  that  day.  The  house 
was  to  be  opened  on  the  20th  of  June,  but  it  was  not 
likely  that  there  would  be  so  many  people  at  once  that 
they  could  not  give  the  21st  to  Class  Day;  Frank  and 
his  father  could  run  Lion's  Head  somehow,  or,  if  they 
could  not,  then  the  opening  could  be  postponed  till 
the  24th.  At  all  events,  they  must  not  fail  to  come. 
Cynthia  showed  the  whole  letter  to  his  mother,  who 
refused  to  think  of  such  a  thing,  and  then  asked,  as 
if  the  fact  had  not  been  fully  set  before  her,  "  When 
is  it  to  be  ?  " 

"The  21st  of  June." 

"  Well,  he's  early  enough  with  his  invitation,"  she 
grumbled. 


202  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"Yes,  he  is,"  said  Cynthia;  and  she  laughed  for 
shame  and  pleasure  as  she  confessed,  "  I  was  thinking 
he  was  rather  late." 

She  hung  her  head,  and  turned  her  face  away.  But 
Mrs.  Durgin  understood.  "  You  be'n  expectin'  it  all 
along,  then." 

"  I  guess  so." 

"  I  presume,"  said  the  elder  woman,  "  that  he's 
talked  to  you  about  it.  He  never  tells  me  much.  I 
don't  see  why  you  should  want  to  go.  What's  it  like  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  But  it's  the  day  the  gradu 
ating  class  have  to  themselves,  and  all  their  friends 
come." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  why  anybody  should  want  to 
go,"  said  Mrs.  Durgin.  "I  sha'n't.  Tell  him  he 
won't  want  to  own  me  when  he  sees  me.  What  am 
I  goin'  to  wear,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  What  you 
goin'  to  wear,  Cynthy  ?  " 


XXVIII. 

JEFF'S  place  at  Harvard  had  been  too  long  fixed 
among  the  jays  to  allow  the  hope  of  wholly  retrieving 
his  condition  now.  It  was  too  late  for  him  to  be 
chosen  in  any  of  the  nicer  clubs  or  societies,  but  he 
was  not  beyond  the  mounting  sentiment  of  comradery, 
which  begins  to  tell  in  the  last  year  among  college 
men,  and  which  had  its  due  effect  with  his  class.  One 
of  the  men,  who  had  always  had  a  foible  for  human 
ity,  took  advantage  of  the  prevailing  mood  in  another 
man,  and  wrought  upon  him  to  ask,  among  the  fel 
lows  he  was  asking  to  a  tea  at  his  rooms,  several 
fellows  who  were  distinctly  and  almost  typically  jay. 
The  tea  was  for  the  aunt  of  the  man  who  gave  it,  a 
very  pretty  woman  from  New  York,  and  it  was  so 
richly  qualified  by  young  people  of  fashion  from  Bos 
ton  that  the  infusion  of  the  jay  flavor  could  not  spoil 
it,  if  it  would  not  rather  add  an  agreeable  piquancy. 
This  college  mood  coincided  that  year  with  a  benevo 
lent  emotion  in  the  larger  world,  from  which  fashion 
was  not  exempt.  Society  had  just  been  stirred  by 
the  reading  of  a  certain  book,  which  had  then  a  very 
great  vogue,  and  several  people  had  been  down  among 


204  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

the  wretched  at  the  North  End  doing  good  in  a  con 
science-stricken  effort  to  avert  the  milleniiim  which 
the  book  in  question  seemed  to  threaten.  The  lady 
who  matronized  the  tea  was  said  to  have  done  more 
good  than  you  could  imagine  at  the  North  End,  and 
she  caught  at  the  chance  to  meet  the  college  jays  in 
a  spirit  of  Christian  charity.  \Vhcn  the  man  who 
was  going  to  give  the  tea  rather  sheepishly  confessed 
what  the  altruistic  man  had  got  him  in  for,  she  praised 
him  so  much  that  he  went  away  feeling  like  the  hero 
of  a  holy  cause.  She  promised  the  assistance  and 
sympathy  of  several  brave  girls,  who  would  not  be 
afraid  of  all  the  jays  in  college. 

After  all,  only  one  of  the  jays  came.  Not  many, 
in  fact,  had  been  asked,  and  when  Jeff  Durgin  actu 
ally  appeared,  it  was  not  known  that  he  was  both  the 
first  and  the  last  of  his  kind.  The  lady  who  was 
matronizing  the  tea  recognized  him,  with  a  throe  of 
her  quickened  conscience,  as  the  young  fellow  whom 
she  had  met  two  winters  before  at  the  studio  tea  which 
Mr.  Westovcr  had  given  to  those  queer  Florentine 
friends  of  his,  and  whom  she  had  never  thought  of 
since,  though  she  had  then  promised  herself  to  do 
something  for  him.  She  had  then  even  given  him 
some  vague  hints  of  a  prospective  hospitality,  and 
she  confessed  her  sin  of  omission  in  a  swift  but 
graphic  retrospect  to  one  of  her  brave  girls,  while  Jeff 
stood  blocking  out  a  space  for  his  stalwart  bulk  amid 
the  alien  elegance  just  within  the  doorway,  and  the 
host  was  making  his  way  towards  him,  with  an  out 
stretched  hand  of  hardy  welcome. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  205 

At  an  earlier  period  of  his  neglect  and  exclusion, 
Jeff  would  not  have  responded  to  the  belated  overture 
which  had  now  been  made  him,  for  no  reason  that  he 
could  divine.  But  he  had  nothing  to  lose  by  accept 
ing  the  invitation,  and  he  had  promised  the  altruistic 
man,  whom  he  rather  liked ;  he  did  not  dislike  the 
giver  of  the  tea  so  much  as  some  other  men,  and  so 
he  came. 

The  brave  girl  whom  the  matron  was  preparing  to 
devote  to  him  stood  shrinking  with  a  trepidation  which 
she  could  not  conceal  at  sight  of  his  strange  massive- 
ness,  with  his  rust-gold  hair  coming  down  towards  his 
thick  yellow  brows  and  mocking  blue  eyes  in  a  dense 
bang,  and  his  jaw  squaring  itself  under  the  rather  in 
solent  smile  of  his  full  mouth.  The  matron  felt  that 
her  victim  was  perhaps  going  to  fail  her,  when  a  voice 
at  her  ear  said,  as  if  the  question  were  extorted, 
"  Who  in  the  world  is  that  ?  " 

She  instantly  turned,  and  flashed  out  in  a  few  in 
spired  syllables  the  fact  she  had  just  imparted  to  her 
treacherous  heroine.  "  Do  let  me  introduce  him,  Miss 
Lynde.  I  must  do  something  for  him,  when  he  gets 
up  to  me,  if  he  eVer  does." 

"By  all  means,"  said  the  girl,  who  had  an  impulse 
to  laugh  at  the  rude  force  of  Jeff's  face  and  figure,  so 
disproportioned  to  the  occasion,  and  she  vented  it  at 
the  matron's  tribulation.  The  matron  was  shaking 
hands  with  people  right  and  left,  and  exchanging  in 
audible  banalities  with  them.  She  did  not  know  what 
the  girl  said  in  answer,  but  she  was  aware  that  she 
remained  near  her.  She  had  professed  her  joy  at 


206  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

seeing  Jeff  again,  when  he  reached  her,  and  she  turned 
with  him  and  said,  "  Let  me  present  you  to  Miss 
Lynde,  Mr.  Durgin,"  and  so  abandoned  them  to  each 
other. 

As  Jeff  had  none  of  the  anxiety  for  social  success 
which  he  would  have  felt  at  an  earlier  period,  he  now 
left  it  to  Miss  Lynde  to  begin  the  talk,  or  not,  as  she 
chose.  He  bore  himself  with  so  much  indifference 
that  she  was  piqued  to  an  effort  to  hold  his  eyes,  that 
wandered  from  her  to  this  face  and  that  in  the  crowd. 

"  Do  you  find  many  people  you  know,  Mr.  Durgin  ?  " 

"  I  don't  find  any." 

"  I  supposed  you  didn't  from  the  way  you  looked 
at  them." 

"  How  did  I  look  at  them  ? " 

"  As  if  you  wanted  to  cat  them,  and  one  nevei 
wants  to  eat  one's  friends." 

"Why?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  They  wouldn't  agree  with 
one." 

Jeff  laughed,  and  he  now  took  fuller  note  of  the 
slender  girl  who  stood  before  him,  and  swayed  a  little 
backward,  in  a  graceful  curve.  He  Saw  that  she  had 
a  dull,  thick  complexion,  with  liquid  eyes,  set  wide 
apart  and  slanted  upwards  slightly,  and  a  nose  that  was 
deflected  inward  from  the  straight  line  ;  but  her  mouth 
was  beautiful  and  vividly  red  like  a  crimson  blossom. 

"  Couldn't  you  find  me  some  place  to  sit  down,  Mr. 
Durgin  ? "  she  asked. 

He  had  it  on  his  tongue  to  say,  "  Well,  not  unless 
you  want  to  sit  down  on  some  enemy,"  but  he  did  not 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  207 

venture  this:  when  it  comes  to  daring  of  that  sort, 
the  boldest  man  is  commonly  a  little  behind  a  timid 
woman. 

Several  of  the  fellows  had  clubbed  their  rooms,  and 
lent  them  to  the  man  who  was  giving  the  tea ;  he  used 
one  of  the  apartments  for  a  cloak-room,  and  he  meant 
the  other  for  the  social  overflow  from  his  own.  But 
people  always  prefer  to  remain  dammed-up  together 
in  the  room  where  they  are  received,  and  Miss  Lynde 
looked  between  the  neighboring  heads,  and  over  the 
neighboring  shoulders,  and  saw  the  borrowed  apart 
ment  quite  empty.  At  the  moment  of  this  discovery 
the  host  came  fighting  his  way  up  to  make  sure  that 
Jeff  had  been  provided  for  in  the  way  of  introduc 
tions.  He  promptly  introduced  him  to  Miss  Lynde. 
She  said  :  "  Oh,  that's  been  done  !  Can't  you  think 
of  something  new?"  Jeff  liked  the  style  of  this. 
"  /  don't  mind  it,  but  I'm  afraid  Mr.  Durgin  must  find 
it  monotonous." 

"  Oh,  well,  do  something  original  yourself,  then, 
Miss  Lynde  !  "  said  the  host.  "  Start  a  movement  for 
that  room  across  the  passage ;  that's  mine,  too,  for  the 
occasion ;  and  save  some  of  these  people's  lives.  It's 
suffocating  in  here." 

"  I  don't  mind  saving  Mr.  Durgin's,"  said  the  girl, 
"  if  he  wants  it  saved." 

"  Oh,  I  know  he's  just  dying  to  have  you  save  it," 
said  the  host,  and  he  left  them,  to  inspire  other 
people  to  follow  their  example.  But  such  as  glanced 
across  the  passage  into  the  overflow  room  seemed  to 
think  it  now  the  possession  solely  of  the  pioneers  of 


208  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

the  movement.  At  any  rate,  they  made  no  show  of 
joining  them;  and  after  Miss  Lynde  and  Jeff  had 
looked  at  the  pictures  on  the  walls  and  the  photo 
graphs  on  the  mantel  of  the  room  where  they  found 
themselves,  they  sat  down  on  chairs  fronting  the  open 
door  and  the  door  of  the  room  they  had  left.  The 
window-seat  would  have  been  more  to  Jeff's  mind, 
and  he  had  proposed  it,  but  the  girl  seemed  not  to 
have  heard  him ;  she  took  the  deep  easy-chair  in  full 
view  of  the  company  opposite,  and  left  him  to  pull  up 
a  chair  beside  her. 

"  I  always  like  to  see  the  pictures  in  a  man's  room," 
she  said,  with  a  little  sigh  of  relief  from  their  inspec 
tion  and  a  partial  yielding  of  her  figure  to  the  luxury 
of  the  chair.  "  Then  I  know  what  the  man  is.  This 
man — I  don't  know  whose  room  it  is— seems  to  have 
spent  a  good  deal  of  his  time  at  the  theatre." 

"  Isn't  that  where  most  of  them  spend  their  time  ? " 
asked  Jeff. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  Is  that  where  you  spend 
yours  ? " 

"  It  used  to  be.  I'm  not  spending  my  time  any 
where  just  now,"  She  looked  questioningly,  and  he 
added,  "  I  haven't  got  any  to  spend." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  Is  that  a  reason  ?  Why  don't  you 
spend  somebody  else's  ?  " 

"  Nobody  has  any,  that  I  know." 

"  You're  all  working  off  conditions,  you  mean  ? " 

"  That's  what  I'm  doing,  or  trying  to." 

"  Then  it's  never  certain  whether  you  can  do  it, 
after  all?" 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  209 

"  Not  so  certain  as  to  be  free  from  excitement," 
said  Jeff,  smiling. 

"  And  are  you  consumed  with  the  melancholy  that 
seems  to  be  balling  up  all  the  men  at  the  prospect  of 
having  to  leave  Harvard  and  go  out  into  the  hard,  cold 
world  ? " 

"  I  don't  look  it,  do  I  ?  "  Jeff  asked. 

"  No,  you  don't.  And  you  don't  feel  it  ?  You're 
not  trying  concealment,  and  so  forth  ? " 

"  No  ;  if  I'd  had  my  own  way,  I'd  have  left  Harvard 
before  this."  He  could  see  that  his  bold  assumption 
of  difference,  or  indifference,  told  upon  her.  "  I 
couldn't  get  out  into  the  hard,  cold  world  too  soon." 

"  How  fearless  !  Most  of  them  don't  know  what 
they're  going  to  do  in  it." 

"I  do." 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  Or  perhaps  you 
think  that's  asking  !  " 

"  Oh,  no.     I'm  going  to  keep  a  hotel." 

He  had  hoped  to  startle  her,  but  she  asked,  rather 
quietly,  "  What  do  you  mean?"  and  she  added,  as  if 
to  punish  him  for  trying  to  mystify  her :  "  I've  heard 
that  it  requires  gifts  for  that.  Isn't  there  some  prov 
erb  ? " 

"  Yes.  But  I'm  going  to  try  to  do  it  on  experience." 
He  laughed,  and  he  did  not  mind  her  trying  to  hit 
him,  for  he  saw  that  he  had  made  her  curious. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  have  kept  a  hotel  ?  " 

"  For  three  generations,"  he  returned,  with  a  grav 
ity  that  mocked  her  from  his  bold  eyes. 

"  I'm  sure  /  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  she  said, 
N 


210  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

indifferently.     "  Where  is  your  hotel  ?     In  Boston 

New  York — Chicago?" 

"  It's  in  the  country — it's  a  summer  hotel,"  he  said, 
as  before. 

She  looked  away  from  him  towards  the  other  room. 
"  There's  my  brother.  I  didn't  know  he  was  coming." 

"  Shall  I  go  and  tell  him  where  you  are  ? "  Jeff 
asked,  following  the  direction  of  her  eyes. 

"  No,  no ;  he  can  find  me,"  said  the  girl,  sinking 
back  in  her  chair  again.  He  left  her  to  resume  the 
talk  where  she  chose,  and  she  said,  "  If  it's  something 
ancestral,  of  course — " 

"  I  don't  know  as  it's  that,  exactly.  My  grandfather 
used  to  keep  a  country  tavern,  and  so  it's  in  the  blood, 
but  the  hotel  I  mean  is  something  that  we've  worked 
up  into  from  a  farm  boarding-house." 

"  You  don't  talk  like  a  country  person,"  the  girl 
broke  in,  abruptly. 

"  Not  in  Cambridge.     I  do  in  the  country." 

"  And  so,"  she  prompted,  "  you're  going  to  turn  it 
into  a  hotel,  when  you've  got  out  of«Harvard." 

"  It's  a  hotel  already,  and  a  pretty  big  one  ;  but  I'm 
going  to  make  the  right  kind  of  hotel  of  it  when  I 
take  hold  of  it." 

4    "  And  what  is  the  right  kind  of  a  hotel  ?  " 
"That's  a  long  story.      It  would  make  you  tired." 
"  It  might,  but  we've  got  to  spend  the  time  some 
how.     You  could  begin,  and  then  if  I  couldn't  stand 
it  you  could  stop." 

"  It's  easier  to  stop  first,  and  begin  some  other  time. 
I  guess  I'll  let  you  imagine  my  hotel,  Miss  Lynde." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  211 

"  Oh,  I  understand  now,"  said  the  girl.  "  The  table 
will  be  the  great  thing.  You  will  stuff  people." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I'm  trying  to  stuff  you  ? " 

"  How  do  I  know?  You  never  can  tell  what  .men 
really  mean." 

Jeff  laughed  with  mounting  pleasure  in  her  audacity, 
that  imparted  a  sense  of  tolerance  for  him  such  as  he 
had  experienced  very  seldom  from  the  Boston  girls  he 
had  met ;  after  all,  he  had  met  but  few.  It  nattered 
him  to  have  her  doubt  what  he  had  told  her  in  his 
reckless  indifference;  it  implied  that  he  was  fit  for 
better  things  than  hotel-keeping. 

"  You  never  can  tell  how  much  a  woman  believes," 
he  retorted. 

"  And  you  keep  trying  to  find  out  ? " 

"  No,  but  I  think  that  they  might  believe  the  truth." 

"  You'd  better  try  them  with  it !  " 

"  Well,  I  will.  Do  you  really  want  to  know  what 
I'm  going  to  do  when  I  get  through  ? " 

"  Let  me  see  !  "  Miss  Lynde  leaned  forward,  with 
her  elbow  on  her  knee  and  her  chin  in  her  hand,  and 
softly  kicked  the  edge  of  her  skirt  with  the  toe  of  hex- 
shoe,  as  if  in  deep  thought.  Jeff  waited  for  her  to 
play  her  comedy  through.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  think 
I  did  wish  to  know — at  one  time." 

"  But  you  don't  now  ? " 

"  Now  ?  How  can  I  tell  ?  It  was  a  great  while  ago  !  " 

"  I  see  you  don't." 

Miss  Lynde  did  not  make  any  reply.  She  asked, 
"  Do  you  know  my  aunt,  Mr.  Durgin  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  you  had  one." 


212  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Yes,  everybody  has  an  aunt — even  when  they 
haven't  a  mother,  if  you  can  believe  the  Gilbert  operas. 
I  ask  because  I  happen  to  live  with  my  aunt,  and  if 
you  knew  her  she  might — ask  you  to  call."  Miss 
Lynde  scanned  Jeff's  face  for  the  effect  of  this. 

He  said,  gravely,  "  If  you'll  introduce  me  to  her, 
I'll  ask  her  to  let  me." 

"  Would  you,  really  ?  "  said  the  girl.  "  I've  half  a 
mind  to  try.  I  wonder  if  you'd  really  have  the  cour- 
age." 

"  I  don't  think  I'm  easily  rattled." 

"  You  mean  that  I'm  trying  to  rattle  you." 

"  No—" 

"  I'm  not.     My  aunt  is  just  what  I've  said." 

"  You  haven't  said  what  she  was.     Is  she  here  ?  " 

"  No ;  that's  the  worst  of  it.  If  she  were,  I  should 
introduce  you,  just  to  see  if  you'd  dare.  Well,  some 
other  time  I  will.'1'' 

"You  think  there'll  be  some  other  time?"  Jeff 
asked. 

"  I  don't  know.  There  are  all  kinds  of  times.  By- 
the-way,  what  time  is  it  ?  " 

Jeff  looked  at  his  watch.      "  Quarter  after  six." 

"  Then  I  must  go."  She  jumped  to  her  feet,  and 
faced  about  for  a  glimpse  of  herself  in  the  little  glass 
on  the  mantel,  and  put  her  hand  on  the  large  pink 
roses  massed  at  her  waist.  One  heavy  bud  dropped 
from  its  stem  to  the  floor,  where,  while  she  stood,  the 
edge  of  her  skirt  pulled  and  pushed  it.  She  moved  a 
little  aside,  to  peer  over  at  a  photograph.  Jeff  stooped 
and  picked  up  the  flower,  which  he  offered  her. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  213 

"  You  dropped  it,"  lie  said,  bowing  over  it. 

"  Did  I  ?  "  She  looked  at  it  with  an  effect  of  sur 
prise  and  doubt. 

"  I  thought  so,  but  if  you  don't,  I  shall  keep  it." 

The  girl  removed  her  careless  eyes  from  it.  "  When 
they  break  off  so  short,  they  won't  go  back." 

"  If  I  were  a  rose,  I  should  want  to  go  back,"  said 
Jeff. 

She  stopped  in  one  of  her  many  aversions  and  rever 
sions,  and  looked  at  him  steadily  across  her  shoulder. 
"  You  won't  have  to  keep  a  poet,  Mr.  Durgin." 

"  Thank  you.  I  always  expected  to  write  the  cir 
culars  myself.  I'll  send  you  one." 

"Do." 

"  With  this  rose  pressed  between  the  leaves,  so 
you'll  know." 

"  That  would  be  very  pretty.  .  But  you  must  take 
me  to  Mrs.  Bevidge,  now,  if  you  can." 

"I  guess  I  can,"  said  Jeff;  and  in  a  minute  or  two 
they  stood  before  the  matronizing  hostess,  after  a 
passage  through  the  babbling  and  laughing  groups 
that  looked  as  impossible  after  they  had  made  it  as  it 
looked  before. 

Mrs.  Bevidge  gave  the  girl's  hand  a  pressure  dis 
tinct  from  the  official  touch  of  parting,  and  contrived 
to  say,  for  her  hearing  alone  :  "  Thank  you  so  much, 
Bessie.  You've  done  missionary  work." 

"  I  shouldn't  call  it  that." 

"  It  will  do  for  you  to  say  so  !  He  wasn't  really  so 
bad,  then  ?  Thank  you  again,  dear  !  ". 

Jeff  had  waited  his  turn.     But  now,  after  the  girl 


214  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

had  turned  away,  as  if  she  had  forgotten  him,  his  eyes 
followed  her,  and  he  did  not  know  that  Mrs.  Bevidge 
was  speaking  to  him.  Miss  Lynde  had  slimly  lost 
herself  in  the  mass,  till  she  was  only  a  graceful  tilt  of 
hat,  before  she  turned  with  a  distraught  air.  When 
her  eyes  met  Jeff's  they  lighted  up  with  a  look  that 
comes  into  the  face  when  one  remembers  what  one  has 
been  trying  to  think  of.  She  gave  him  a  brilliant 
smile  that  seemed  to  illumine  him  from  head  to  foot, 
and  before  it  was  quenched  he  felt  as  if  she  had  kissed 
her  hand  to  him  from  her  rich  mouth. 

Then  he  heard  Mrs.  Bevidge  asking  something  about 
a  hall,  and  he  was  aware  of  her  bending  upon  him  a 
look  of  the  daring  humanity  that  had  carried  her  tri 
umphantly  through  her  good  works  at  the  North  End. 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  in  the  Yard,"  said  Jeff,  with  belated 
intelligence.  , 

"  Then  will  just  Cambridge  reach  you  ?  " 

He  gave  his  number  and  street,  and  she  thanked 
him  with  the  benevolence  that  availed  so  much  with 
the  lower  classes.  He  went  away  thrilling  and  tin 
gling,  with  that  girl's  tones  in  his  ear,  her  motions  in 
his  nerves,  and  the  colors  of  her  face  filling  his  sight, 
which  he  printed  on  the  air  whenever  he  turned,  as 
one  does  with  a  vivid  light  after  looking  at  it. 


XXIX. 

WHEN  Jeff  reached  his  room  he  felt  the  need  of 
writing  to  Cynthia,  with  whatever  obscure  intention  of 
atonement.  He  told  her  of  the  college  tea  he  had 
just  come  from,  and  made  fun  of  it,  and  the  kind  of 
people  he  had  met,  especially  the  affected  girl  who  had 
tried  to  rattle  him ;  he  said  he  guessed  she  did  not 
think  she  had  rattled  him  a  great  deal. 

While  he  wrote  he  kept  thinking  how  this  Miss 
Lynde  was  nearer  his  early  ideal  of  fashion,  of  high 
life,  which  Westover  had  pretty  well  snubbed  out  of 
him,  than  any  woman  he  had  seen  yet;  she  seemed  a 
girl  who  would  do  what  she  pleased,  and  would  not  be 
afraid  if  it  did  not  please  other  people.  He  liked  her 
having  tried  to  rattle  him,  and  he  smiled  to  himself  in 
recalling  her  failure.  It  was  as  if  she  had  laid  hold 
of  him  with  her  little  hands  to  shake  him,  and  had 
shaken  herself.  He  laughed  out  in  the  dark  when 
this  image  came  into  his  mind ;  its  intimacy  flattered 
him  ;  and  he  believed  that  it  was  upon  some  hint  from 
her  that  Mrs.  Bevidge  had  asked  his  address.  She 
must  be  going  to  ask  him  to  her  house,  and  very  soon, 
for  it  was  part  of  Jeff's  meagre  social  experience  that 


216  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

this  was  the  way  swells  did  ;  they  might  never  ask  you 
twice,  but  they  would  ask  you  promptly. 

The  thing  that  Mrs.  Bevidge  asked  Jeff  to,  when 
her  note  reached  him  the  second  day  after  the  tea,  was 
a  meeting  to  interest  young  people  in  the  work  at  the 
North  End,  and  Jeff  swore  under  his  breath  at  the 
disappointment  and  indignity  put  upon  him.  He  had 
reckoned  upon  an  afternoon  tea,  at  least,  or  even,  in 
the  flights  of  fancy  which  he  now  disowned  to  himself, 
a  dance  after  the  Mid-Years,  or  possibly  an  earlier  re 
ception  of  some  sort.  He  burned  with  shame  to  think 
of  a  theatre  party,  which  he  had  fondly  specialized, 
with  a  seat  next  Miss  Lynde. 

He  tore  Mrs.  Bevidge's  note  to  pieces,  and  decided 
not  to  answer  it  at  all,  as  the  best  way  of  showing  how 
he  had  taken  her  invitation.  But  Mrs.  Bevidge's  be 
nevolence  was  not  wanting  in  courage ;  she  believed 
that  Jeff  should  pay  his  footing  in  society,  such  as  it 
was,  and  should  allow  himself  to  be  made  use  of,  the 
first  thing;  when  she  had  no  reply  from  him,  she 
wrote  him  again,  asking  him  to  an  adjourned  meeting 
of  the  first  convocation,  which  had  been  so  successful 
in  everything  but  numbers.  This  time  she  baited  her 
hook,  in  hoping  that  the  young  men  would  feel  some 
thing  of  the  interest  the  young  ladies  had  already 
shown  in  the  matter.  She  expressed  the  fear  that  Mr. 
Durgin  had  not  got  her  earlier  letter,  and  she  sent  this 
second  to  the  care  of  the  man  who  had  given  the  tea. 

Jeff's  resentment  was  now  so  far  past  that  he  would 
have  civilly  declined  to  go  to  the  woman's  house ;  but 
all  his  hopes  of  seeing  that  girl,  as  he  always 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  217 

Miss  Lynde  in  his  thought,  were  revived  by  the  men 
tion  of  the  young  ladies  interested  in  the  cause.  lie 
accepted,  though  all  the  way  into  Boston  he  laid 
wagers  with  himself  that  she  would  not  be  there ;  and 
up  to  the  moment  of  taking  her  hand  he  refused  him 
self  any  hope  of  winning. 

There  was  not  much  business  before  the  meeting ; 
that  had  really  been  all  transacted  before;  it  was 
mainly  to  make  sure  of  the  young  men,  who  were  pres 
ent  in  the  proportion  of  one  to  five  young  ladies  at 
least.  Mrs.  Bevidge  explained  that  she  had  seen  the 
wastefulness  of  amateur  effort  among  the  poor,  and 
announced  that  hereafter  she  was  going  to  work  with 
the  established  charities.  These  were  very  much  in 
want  of  visitors,  especially  young  men,  to  go  about 
among  the  applicants  for  relief,  and  inquire  into  their 
real  necessities,  and  get  work  for  them.  She  was  her 
self  going  to  act  as  secretary  for  the  meetings  during 
the  coming  month,  and  apparently  she  wished  to  sig 
nalize  her  accession  to  the  regular  forces  of  charity  by 
bringing  into  camp  as  large  a  body  of  recruits  as  she 
could. 

But  Jeff  had  not  come  to  be  made  use  of,  or  as  a 
jay  who  was  willing  to  work  for  his  footing  in  society. 
He  had  come  in  the  hope  of  meeting  Miss  Lynde,  and 
now  that  he  had  met  her  he  had  no  gratitude  to  Mrs. 
Bevidge  as  a  means,  and  no  regret  for  the  defeat  of 
her  good  purposes  so  far  as  she  intended  their  fulfil 
ment  in  him.  He  was  so  cool  and  self-possessed  in 
excusing  himself,  for  reasons  that  he  took  no  pains  to 
make  seem  unselfish,  that  the  altruistic  man  who  had 


218  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

got  him  asked  to  the  college  tea  as  a  friendless  jay 
felt  it  laid  upon  him  to  apologize  for  Mrs.  Bevidge's 
want  of  tact. 

"  She  means  well,  and  she's  very  much  in  earnest, 
in  this  work ;  but  I  must  say  she  can  make  herself 
very  offensive — when  she  doesn't  try  !  She  has  a  right 
to  ask  our  help,  but  not  to  parade  us  as  the  captives 
of  her  bow  and  spear." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Jeff.  He  perceived  that 
the  amiable  fellow  was  claiming  for  all  an  effect  that 
Jeff  knew  really  implicated  himself  alone.  "  I  couldn't 
load  up  with  anything  of  that  sort,  if  I'm  to  work  off 
my  conditions,  you  know." 

"  Are  you  in  that  boat  ?  "  said  the  altruist,  as  if  he 
were,  too ;  and  he  put  his  hand  compassionately  on 
Jeff's  iron  shoulder,  and  left  him  to  Miss  Lynde,  whose 
side  he  had  not  stirred  from  since  he  had  found  her. 
"  It  seems  to  me,"  she  said,  "  that  where  there  are 
so  many  of  you  in  the  same  boat,  you  might  manage 
to  get  ashore  somehow." 

"  Yes,  or  all  go  down  together."  Jeff  laughed,  and 
ate  Mrs.  Bevidge's  bread-and-butter,  and  drank  her 
tea,  with  a  relish  unaffected  by  his  refusal  to  do  what 
she  asked  him.  He  was  right,  perhaps,  and  perhaps 
she  deserved  nothing  better  at  his  hands,  but  the  al 
truist,  when  he  glanced  at  him  from  the  other  side  of 
the  room,  thought  that  he  had  possibly  wasted  his 
excuses  upon  Jeff's  self-complacence. 

He  went  away  in  a  halo  of  young  ladies ;  several  of 
the  other  girls  grouped  themselves  in  their  departure  ; 
and  it  happened  that  Miss  Lyndc  and  Jeff  took  leave 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  219 

together.  Mrs.  Bevidge  said  to  her,  with  the  caress 
ing  tenderness  of  one  in  the  same  set,  "Good-by, 
dear !  "  To  Jeff  she  said,  with  the  cold  conscience  of 
those  whom  their  nobility  obliges,  "  I  am  always  at 
home  on  Thursdays,  Mr.  Durgin." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  said  Jeff.  He  understood  what 
the  words  and  the  manner  meant  together,  but  both 
were  instantly  indifferent  to  him  when  he  got  outside 
and  found  that  Miss  Lynde  was  not  driving.  Some 
thing,  which  was  neither  look,  nor  smile,  nor  word,  of 
course,  but  nothing  more  at  most  than  a  certain  pull 
and  tilt  of  the  shoulder,  as  she  turned  to  walk  away 
from  Mrs.  Bevidge's  door,  told  him  from  her  that  he 
might  walk  home  with  her  if  he  would  not  seem  to 
do  so. 

It  was  one  of  the  pink  evenings,  dry  and  clear,  that 
come  in  the  Boston  December,  and  they  walked  down 
the  side-hill  street,  under  the  delicate  tracery  of  the 
elm  boughs  in  the  face  of  the  metallic  sunset.  In  the 
section  of  the  Charles  that  the  perspective  of  the  street 
blocked  out,  the  wrinkled  current  showed  as  if  glazed 
with  the  hard  color.  Jeff's  strong  frame  rejoiced  in 
the  cold  with  a  hale  pleasure  when  he  looked  round 
into  the  face  of  the  girl  beside  him,  with  the  gray  film 
of  her  veil  pressed  softly  against  her  red  mouth  by 
her  swift  advance.  Their  faces  were  nearly  on  a  level, 
as  they  looked  into  each  other's  eyes,  and  he  kept 
seeing  the  play  of  the  veil's  edge  against  her  lips  as 
they  talked. 

"Why  sha'n't  you  go  to  Mrs.  Bevidge's  Thurs 
days?"  she  asked.  "They're  very  nice." 


220  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  How  do  you  know  I'm  not  going  ?  "  he  retorted. 

"By  the  way  you  thanked  her." 

"  Do  you  advise  me  to  go  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  got  anything  to  do  with  it.  What  do 
you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     Curiosity,  I  suppose." 

"  Well,  I  do  advise  you  to  go,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Shall  you  be  there  next  Thursday  ? " 

"  I  ?   /  never  go  to  Mrs.  Bevidge's  Thursdays  !  " 

"  Touche"  said  Jeff,  and  they  both  laughed.  "  Can 
you  always  get  in  at  an  enemy  that  way  ? " 

"  Enemy  ? " 

"  Well,  friend.     It's  the  same  thing." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  girl.  "  You  belong  to  the  pessi 
mistic  school  of  Seniors." 

"  Why  don't  you  try  to  make  an  optimist  of  me  ?  " 

"  Would  it  be  worth  while  ?  " 

"  That  isn't  for  me  to  say." 

"  Don't  be  diffident !     That's  staler  yet." 

"  I'll  be  anything  you  like." 

"  I'm  not  sure  you  could."  For  an  instant  Jeff  did 
not  feel  the  point,  and  he  had  not  the  magnanimity, 
when  he  did,  to  own  himself  touched  again.  Appar 
ently,  if  this  girl  could  not  rattle  him,  she  could  beat 
him  at  fence,  and  the  will  to  dominate  her  began  to 
stir  in  him.  If  he  could  have  thought  of  any  sarcasm, 
no  matter  how  crushing,  he  would  have  come  back  at 
her  with  it.  He  could  not  think  of  anything,  and  he 
walked  at  her  side,  inwardly  chafing  for  the  chance 
which  would  not  come. 

When  they  reached    her  door  there  was  a  young 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  221 

man  at  the  lock  with  a  latch-key,  which  he  was  not 
making  work,  for,  after  a  bated  blasphemy  of  his  fail 
ure,  he  turned  and  twitched  the  bell  impatiently. 

Miss  Lynde  laughed  provokingly,  and  he  looked 
over  his  shoulder  at  her  and  at  Jeff,  who  felt  his  injury 
increased  by  the  disadvantage  this  young  man  put  him 
at.  Jeff  was  as  correctly  dressed;  he  wore  a  silk  hat 
of  the  last  shape,  and  a  long  frock-coat ;  he  was  prop 
erly  gloved  and  shod ;  his  clothes  fitted  him,  and  were 
from  the  best  tailor ;  but  at  sight  of  this  young  man 
in  clothes  of  the  same  design  he  felt  ill-dressed.  He 
was  in  like  sort  aware  of  being  rudely  blocked  out 
physically,  and  coarsely  colored  as  to  his  blond  tints 
of  hair  and  eye  and  cheek.  Even  the  sinister  some 
thing  in  the  young  man's  look  had  distinction,  and 
there  was  style  in  the  signs  of  dissipation  in  his  hand 
some  face  which  Jeff  saw  with  a  hunger  to  outdo  him. 

Miss  Lynde  said  to  Jeff,  "  My  brother,  Mr.  Durgin," 
and  then  she  added  to  the  other,  "  You  ought  to  ring 
first,  Arthur,  and  try  your  key  afterwards." 

"  The  key's  all  right,"  said  the  young  man,  without 
paying  any  attention  to  Jeff  beyond  a  glance  of  recog 
nition  ;  he  turned  his  back,  and  waited  for  the  door  to 
be  opened. 

His  sister  suggested,  with  an  amiability  which  Jeff 
felt  was  meant  in  reparation  to  him,  "  Perhaps  a  night- 
latch  never  works  before  dark — or  very  well  before 
midnight."  The  door  was  opened,  and  she  said  to 
Jeff,  with  winning  entreaty,  "  Won't  you  come  in,  Mr. 
Durgin  ? " 

Jeff   excused    himself,  for    he  perceived    that    her 


222  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

politeness  was  not  so  much  an  invitation  to  him  as  a 
defiance  to  her  brother;  he  gave  her  credit  for  no 
more  than  it  was  worth,  and  he  did  not  wish  any  the 
less  to  get  even  with  her  because  of  it. 


XXX. 

AT  dinner,  in  the  absence  of  the  butler,  Alan  Lynde 
attacked  his  sister  across  the  table  for  letting  herself 
be  seen  with  a  jay,  who  was  not  only  a  jay,  but  a  cad, 
and  personally  so  offensive  to  most  of  the  college  men 
that  he  had  never  got  into  a  decent  club  or  society ; 
he  had  been  suspended  the  first  year,  and  if  he  had 
not  had  the  densest  kind  of  cheek  he  would  never 
have  come  back.  Lynde  said  he  would  like  to  know 
where  she  had  picked  the  fellow  up. 

She  answered  that  she  had  picked  him  up,  if  that 
was  the  phrase  he  liked,  at  Mrs.  Bevidge's ;  and  then 
Alan  swore  a  little,  so  as  not  to  be  heard  by  their 
aunt,  who  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  looked 
down  its  length  between  them,  serenely  ignorant,  in 
her  slight  deafness,  of  what  was  going  on  between 
them.  To  her  perception  Alan  was  no  more  vehement 
than  usual,  and  Bessie  no  more  smilingly  self-con- 
tained.  He  said  he  supposed  that  it  was  some  more 
of  Lancaster's  damned  missionary  work,  then,  and  he 
wondered  that  a  gentleman  like  Morland  had  ever  let 
Lancaster  work  such  a  jay  in  on  him  ;  he  had  seen  her 
afficher  herself  with  the  fellow  at  Morland's  tea ;  he 


224:  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

commanded  her  to  stop  it;  and  he  professed  to  speak 
for  her  good. 

Bessie  returned  that  she  knew  how  strongly  he  felt 
from  the  way  he  had  misbehaved  when  she  introduced 
him  to  Mr.  Durgin,  but  that  she  supposed  he  had  been 
at  the  club  and  his  nerves  were  unstrung.  Was  that 
the  reason,  perhaps,  why  he  could  not  make  his  latch 
key  work?  Mr.  Durgin  might  be  a  cad,  and  she  would 
not  say  he  was  not  a  jay,  but  so  far  he  had  not  sworn 
at  her ;  and  if  he  had  been  suspended  and  come  back, 
there  were  some  people  who  had  not  been  suspended 
or  come  back  either,  though  that  might  have  been  for 
want  of  cheek. 

She  ended  by  declaring  she  was  used  to  going  into 
society  without  her  brother's  protection,  or  even  his 
company,  and  she  would  do  her  best  to  get  on  with 
out  his  advice.  Or  was  it  his  conduct  he  wished  her 
to  profit  by  ? 

It  had  come  to  the  fish  going  out  by  this  time,  and 
Alan,  who  had  eaten  with  no  appetite,  and  drunken 
feverishly  of  apollinaris,  flung  down  his  napkin  and 
went  out  too. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  asked  his  aunt,  looking  af 
ter  him. 

Bessie  shrugged,  but  she  said,  presently,  with  her 
lips  more  than  her  voice,  "  I  don't  think  he  feels  very 
well." 

"  Do  you  think  he — " 

The  girl  frowned  assent,  and  the  meal  went  on  to 
its  end.  Then  she  and  her  aunt  went  into  the  large, 
dull  library,  where  they  passed  the  evenings  which 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  225 

Bessie  did  not  spend  in  some  social  function.  These 
evenings  were  growing  rather  more  frequent,  with  her 
advancing  years,  for  she  was  now  nearly  twenty-five, 
and  there  were  few  Seniors  so  old.  She  was  not  the 
kind  of  girl  to  renew  her  youth  with  the  Sophomores 
and  Freshmen  in  the  classes  succeeding  the  class  with 
which  she  had  danced  through  college ;  so  far  as  she 
had  kept  up  the  old  relation  with  students,  she  con 
tinued  it  with  the  men  who  had  gone  into  the  law- 
school.  But  she  saw  less  and  less  of  these  without 
seeing  more  of  other  men,  and  perhaps  in  the  last 
analysis  she  was  not  a  favorite.  She  was  allowed  to  be 
fascinating,  but  she  was  not  felt  to  be  flattering,  and 
people  would  rather  be  flattered  than  fascinated.  In 
fact,  the  men  were  mostly  afraid  of  her ;  and  it  has 
been  observed  of  girls  of  this  kind  that  the  men  who 
are  not  afraid  of  them  are  such  as  they  would  do  well 
to  be  afraid  of.  Whether  that  was  quite  the  case  with 
Bessie  Lynde  or  not,  it  was  certain  that  she  who  was 
always  the  cleverest  girl  in  the  room,  and  if  not  the 
prettiest,  then  the  most  effective,  had  not  the  best  men 
about  her.  Her  men  were  apt  to  be  those  whom  the 
other  girls  called  stupid  or  horrid,  and  whom  it  would 
not  be  easy,  though  it  might  be  more  just,  to  classify 
otherwise.  The  other  girls  wondered  what  she  could 
see  in  them ;  but  perhaps  it  was  not  necessary  that 
she  should  see  anything  in  them,  if  they  could  see  all 
she  wished  them  to  see,  and  no  more,  in  her. 

The  room  where  tea  was  now  brought  and  put  be 
fore  her  was  volumed  round  by  the  collections  of  her 
grandfather,  except  for  the  spaces  filled  by  his  portrait 


226  THE    LANDLOKD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

and  that  of  earlier  ancestors,  going  back  to  the  time 
when  Copley  made  masterpieces  of  his  fellow-Bostoni- 
ans.  Her  aunt  herself  looked  a  family  portrait  of  the 
middle  period,  a  little  anterior  to  her  father's,  but  sub 
sequent  to  her  great-grandfather's.  She  had  a  comely 
face,  with  large,  smooth  cheeks  and  prominent  eyes ; 
the  edges  of  her  decorous  brown  wig  were  combed 
rather  near  their  corners,  and  a  fitting  cap  palliated 
but  did  not  deny  the  wig.  She  had  the  quiet  but 
rather  dull  look  of  people  slightly  deaf,  and  she  had 
perhaps  been  stupefied  by  a  life  of  unalloyed  prosper 
ity  and  propriety.  She  had  grown  an  old  maid  nat 
urally,  but  not  involuntarily,  and  she  was  without  the 
sadness  or  the  harshness  of  disappointment.  She  had 
never  known  much  of  the  world,  though  she  had  al 
ways  lived  in  it.  She  knew  that  it  was  made  up  of 
two  kinds  of  people — people  who  were  like  her  and 
people  who  were  not  like  her ;  and  she  had  lived  solely 
in  the  society  of  people  who  were  like  her,  and  in  the 
shelter  of  their  opinions  and  ideals.  She  did  not  con 
temn  or  exclude  the  people  who  were  unlike  her,  but 
she  had  never  had  any  more  contact  with  them  than 
she  now  had  with  the  weather  of  the  streets,  as  she 
sat,  filling  her  large  arm-chair  full  of  her  ladylike  cor 
rectness,  in  the  library  of  the  handsome  house  her 
father  had  left  her.  The  irruption  of  her  brother's 
son  and  daughter  into  its  cloistered  quiet  had  scarcely 
broken  its  invulnerable  order.  It  was  right  and  fit 
they  should  be  there  after  his  death,  and  it  was  not 
strange  that  in  the  course  of  time  they  should  both 
show  certain  unregulated  tendencies  which,  since  they 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  227 

were  not  known  to  be  Lynde  tendencies,  must  have 
been  derived  from  the  Southwestern  woman  her  broth 
er  had  married  during  his  social  and  financial  periclita- 
tions  in  a  region  wholly  inconceivable  to  her.  Their 
mother  was  dead,  too,  and  their  aunt's  life  closed 
about  them  with  full  acceptance,  if  not  complacence, 
as  part  of  her  world.  They  had  grown  to  manhood 
and  womanhood  without  materially  discomposing  her 
faith  in  the  old-fashioned  Unitarian  deity,  whose  ser 
vice  she  had  always  attended. 

When  Alan  left  college  in  his  Freshman  year,  and 
did  not  go  back,  but  went  rather  to  Europe  and  Egypt 
and  Japan,  it  appeared  to  her  myopic  optimism  that 
his  escapades  had  been  pretty  well  hushed  up  by  time 
and  distance.  After  he  came  home  and  devoted  him 
self  to  his  club,  she  could  have  wished  that  he  had 
taken  up  some  profession  or  business ;  but  since  there 
was  money  enough,  she  waited  in  no  great  disquiet 
until  he  showed  as  decided  a  taste  for  something  else 
as  he  seemed  for  the  present  to  have  only  for  horses. 
In  the  meanwhile,  from  time  to  time,  it  came  to  her 
doctor's  advising  his  going  to  a  certain  retreat.  But 
he  came  out  the  first  time  so  much  better  and  remained 
well  so  long  that  his  aunt  felt  a  kind  of  security  in 
his  going  again  and  again,  whenever  he  became  at  all 
worse.  He  always  came  back  better.  As  she  took 
the  cup  of  tea  that  Bessie  poured  out  for  her,  she 
recurred  to  the  question  that  she  had  partly  asked 
already : 

"  Do  you  think  Alan  is  getting  worse  again  ?  " 

"  Not  so  very  much,"  said  the  girl,  candidly.    "  He's 


228  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

been  at  the  club,  I  suppose,  but  he  left  the  table  partly 
because  I  vexed  him." 

"  Because  you  what  ? " 

"  Because  I  vexed  him.  He  was  scolding  me,  and 
I  wouldn't  stand  it." 

Her  aunt  tasted  her  tea,  and  found  it  so  quite  what 
she  liked  that  she  said,  from  a  natural  satisfaction  with 
Bessie,  "  I  don't  see  what  he  had  to  scold  you  about." 

"  Well,"  returned  Bessie,  and  she  got  her  pretty 
voice  to  the  level  of  her  aunt's  hearing,  with  some 
straining,  and  kept  it  there,  "  when  he  is  in  that  state, 
he  has  to  scold  some  one ;  and  I  had  been  rather  an 
noying,  I  suppose." 

"  What  had  you  been  doing  ? "  asked  her  aunt, 
making  out  her  words  more  from  the  sight  than  from 
the  sound,  after  all. 

"  I  had  been  walking  home  with  a  jay,  and  we  found 
Alan  trying  to  get  in  at  the  front  door  with  his  key, 
and  I  introduced  him  to  the  jay." 

Miss  Louisa  Lynde  had  heard  the  word  so  often 
from  her  niece  and  nephew,  that  she  imagined  herself 
in  full  possession  of  its  meaning.  She  asked,  "  Where 
had  you  met  him  ?  " 

"  I  met  him  first,"  said  the  girl,  "  at  Willie  Mor- 
land's  tea,  last  week,  and  to-day  I  found  him  at  Mrs. 
Bevidge's  altruistic  toot." 

"I  didn't  know,"  said  her  aunt,  after  a  momentary 
attention  to  her  tea,  "  that  jays  were  interested  in  that 
sort  of  thing." 

The  girl  laughed.  "  I  believe  they're  not.  It  hasn't 
quite  reached  them,  yet;  and  I  don't  think  it  will  ever 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION?S    HEAD.  229 

reach  my  jay.  Mrs.  Bevidge  tried  to  work  him  into 
the  cause,  but  he  refused  so  promptly,  and  so — intel 
ligently,  don't  you  know — and  so  almost  brutally,  that 
poor  Freddy  Lancaster  had  to  come  and  apologize  to 
him  for  her  want  of  tact."  Bessie  enjoyed  the  fact, 
which  she  had  colored  a  little,  in  another  laugh,  but 
she  had  apparently  not  possessed  her  aunt  of  the  humor 
of  it.  She  remained  seriously  attentive,  and  the  girl 
went  on.  "  He  was  not  the  least  abashecl  at  having 
refused ;  he  stayed  till  the  last,  and  as  we  came  out  to 
gether  and  he  was  going  my  way,  I  let  him  walk  home 
with  me.  He's  a  jay,  but  he  isn't  a  common  jay." 
Bessie  leaned  forward  and  tried  to  implant  some  no 
tion  of  Jeff's  character  and  personality  in  her  aunt's 
mind. 

Miss  Lynde  listened  attentively  enough,  but  she 
merely  asked,  when  all  was  said,  "  And  why  was  Alan 
vexed  with  you  about  him  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  girl,  falling  back  into  her  chair, 
"  generally  because  this  man's  a  jay,  and  particularly 
because  he's  been  rather  a  baddish  jay,  I  believe.  He 
was  suspended  in  his  first  year  for  something  or  other, 
and  you  know  poor  Alan's  very  particular  !  But  Molly 
Enderby  says  Freddy  Lancaster  gives  him  the  best  of 
characters  now."  Bessie  pulled  down  her  mouth,  with 
an  effect  befitting  the  notion  of  repentance  and  atone 
ment.  Then  she  flashed  out:  "Perhaps  he  had  been 
drinking  when  he  got  into  trouble.  Alan  could  never 
forgive  him  for  that" 

"  I  think,"  said  her  aunt,  "  it  is  to  your  brother's 
credit  that  he  is  anxious  about  your  associations." 


230  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Oh,  very  much  !  "  shouted  Bessie,  with  a  burst  of 
laughter.  "  And  as  he  isn't  practically  so,  I  ought  to 
have  been  more  patient  with  his  theory.  But  when 
he  began  to  scold  me,  I  lost  my  temper,  and  I  gave 
him  a  few  wholesome  truths  in  the  guise  of  taunts. 
That  was  what  made  him  go  away,  I  suppose." 

"  But  I  don't  really  see,"  her  aunt  pursued,  "  what 
occasion  he  had  to  be  angry  with  you  in  this  instance." 

"  Oh,  /  do  !  "  said  Bessie.  "  Mr.  Durgin  isn't  one 
to  inspire  the  casual  beholder  with  the  notion  of  his 
spiritual  distinction.  His  face  is  so  rude  and  strong, 
and  he  has  such  a  primitive  effect  in  his  clothes,  that 
you  feel  as  if  you  were  coming  down  the  street  with  a 
prehistoric  man  that  the  barbers  and  tailors  had  put  a 
Jin  de  siecle  surface  on."  At  the  mystification  which 
appeared  in  her  aunt's  face,  the  girl  laughed  again. 
"  I  should  have  been  quite  as  anxious,  if  I  had  been 
in  Alan's  place,  and  I  shall  tell  him  so,  some  time. 
If  I  had  not  been  so  interested  in  the  situation  I  don't 
believe  I  could  have  kept  my  courage.  Whenever  I 
looked  round,  and  found  that  prehistoric  man  at  my 
elbow,  it  gave  me  the  creeps,  a  little,  as  if  he  were 
really  carrying  me  off  to  his  cave.  I  shall  try  to  ex 
press  that  to  Alan." 


XXXI. 

THE  ladies  finished  their  tea,  and  the  butler  came 
and  took  the  cups  away.  Miss  Lynde  remained  silent 
in  her  chair  at  her  end  of  the  library  table,  and  by- 
and-by  Bessie  got  a  book  and  began  to  read.  When 
her  aunt  woke  up  it  was  half -past  nine.  "  Was  that 
Alan  coming  in  ? "  she  asked. 

"I  don't  think  he's  been  out,"  said  the  girl.  "It 
isn't  late  enough  for  him  to  come  in — or  early  enough." 

"I  believe  I'll  go  to  bed,"  Miss  Lynde  returned. 
"  I  feel  rather  drowsy." 

Bessie  did  not  smile  at  a  comedy  which  was  apt  to 
be  repeated  every  evening  that  she  and  her  aunt  spent 
at  home  together ;  they  parted  for  the  night  with  the 
decencies  of  family  affection,  and  Bessie  delivered  the 
elder  lady  over  to  her  maid.  Then  the  girl  sank  down 
again,  and  lay  musing  in  her  deep  chair  before  the 
fire  with  her  book  shut  on  her  thumb.  She  looked 
rather  old  and  worn  in  her  reverie ;  her  face  lost  the 
air  of  gay  banter  which,  after  the  beauty  of  her  queer 
eyes  and  her  vivid  mouth,  was  its  charm.  The  eyes 
were  rather  dull  now,  and  the  mouth  was  a  little  with 
ered. 


232  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    DEAD. 

She  was  waiting  for  her  brother  to  come  down,  as 
he  was  apt  to  do  if  he  was  in  the  house,  after  their 
aunt  went  to  bed,  to  smoke  a  cigar  in  the  library,  lie 
was  in  his  house-shoes  when  he  shuffled  into  the  room, 
but  her  ear  had  detected  his  presence  before  a  hic 
cough  announced  it.  She  did  not  look  up,  but  let  him 
make  several  failures  to  light  his  cigar,  and  damn  the 
matches  under  his  breath,  before  she  pushed  the  drop- 
light  to  him  in  silent  suggestion.  As  he  leaned  over 
her  chair-back  to  reach  its  chimney  with  his  cigar  in 
his  mouth,  she  said,  "  You're  all  right,  Alan." 

lie  waited  till  he  got  round  to  his  aunt's  easy-chair 
and  dropped  into  it  before  he  answered,  "  So  are  you, 
Bess." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  the  girl,  "  as  I 
should  be  if  you  were  still  scolding  me.  I  knew  that 
he  was  a  jay,  well  enough,  and  I'd  just  seen  him  be 
having  vei*y  like  a  cad  to  Mrs.  Bevidge." 

"  Then  I  don't  understand  how  you  came  to  be  with 
him." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  do,  Alan.  You  mustn't  be  logical ! 
You  might  as  well  say  you  can't  understand  how  you 
came  to  be  more  serious  than  sober."  The  brother 
laughed  helplessly.  "  It  was  the  excitement." 

"  But  you  can't  give  way  to  that  sort  of  thing, 
Bess,"  said  her  brother,  with  the  gravity  of  a  man 
feeling  the  consequences  of  his  own  errors. 

"  I  know  I  can't,  but  I  do,"  she  returned.  "  I  know 
it's  bad  for  me,  if  it  isn't  for  other  people.  Come  ! 
I'll  swear  off  if  you  will !  " 

"  I'm  always  ready  to  swear  off,"  said  the  young 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  233 

man,  gloomily.  He  added,  "  But  you've  got  brains, 
Bess,  and  I  hate  to  see  you  playing  the  fool." 

"  Do  you  really,  Alan  ?  "  asked  the  girl,  pleased  per 
haps  as  much  by  his  reproach  as  by  his  praise.  "  Do 
you  think  I've  got  brains  ? " 

"  You're  the  only  girl  that  has." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  to  ask  so  much  as  that !  But 
what's  the  reason  I  can't  do  anything  with  them? 
Other  girls  draw,  and  play,  and  write.  I  don't  do 
anything  but  go  in  for  the  excitement  that's  bad  for 
me.  I  wish  you'd  explain  it." 

Alan  Lynde  did  not  try.  The  question  seemed  to 
turn  his  thoughts  back  upon  himself  to  dispiriting 
effect.  "  I've  got  brains,  too,  I  believe,"  he  began. 

"  Lots  of  them ! "  cried  his  sister,  generously. 
"  There  isn't  any  of  the  men  to  compare  with  you. 
If  I  had  you  to  talk  with  all  the  time,  I  shouldn't 
want  jays.  I  don't  mean  to  natter.  You're  a  constant 
feast  of  reason ;  I  don't  care  for  flows  of  soul.  You 
always  take  right  views  of  things  when  you're  your 
self,  and  even  when  you're  somebody  else  you're  not 
stupid.  You  could  be  anything  you  chose." 

"  The  devil  of  it  is  I  can't  choose,"  he  replied. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  that's  the  devil  of  it,"  said  the 
girl. 

"  You  oughtn't  to  use  such  language  as  that,  Bess," 
said  her  brother,  severely. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  with  everybody,"  she  returned. 
"  Never  with  ladies  !  " 

He  looked  at  her  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  with 
a  smile  at  once  rueful  and  comic. 


234  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  You've  got  me,  I  guess,  that  time,"  he  owned. 

"  '  Touche^  Mr.  Durgin  says.  He  fences,  it  seems, 
and  he  speaks  French.  It  was  like  an  animal  speak 
ing  French ;  you  always  expect  them  to  speak  English. 
But  /  don't  mind  your  swearing  before  me ;  I  know 
that  it  helps  to  carry  off  the  electricity."  She  laughed, 
and  made  him  laugh  with  her. 

"  Is  there  anything  to  him  ?  "  he  growled,  when 
they  stopped  laughing. 

"  Yes,  a  good  deal,"  said  Bessie,  with  an  air  of 
thoughtf  ulness ;  and  then  she  went  on  to  tell  all  that 
Jeff  had  told  her  of  himself,  and  she  described  his 
aplomb  in  dealing  with  the  benevolent  Bevidge,  as 
she  called  her,  and  sketched  his  character,  as  it  seemed 
to  her.  The  sketch  was  full  of  shrewd  guesses,  and 
she  made  it  amusing  to  her  brother,  who  from  the 
vantage  of  his  own  baddishness  no  doubt  judged  the 
original  more  intelligently. 

"  Well,  you'd  better  let  him  alone,  after  this,"  he 
said,  at  the  end. 

"  Yes,"  she  pensively  assented.  "  I  suppose  it's  as 
if  you  took  to  some  very  common  kind  of  whiskey, 
isn't  it  ?  I  see  what  you  mean.  If  one  must,  it  ought 
to  be  champagne." 

She  turned  upon  him  a  look  of  that  keen  but  lim 
ited  knowledge  which  renders  women's  conjectures  of 
evil  always  so  amusing,  or  so  pathetic,  to  men. 

"  Better  let  the  champagne  alone,  too,"  said  her 
brother,  darkly. 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,"  she  admitted,  and  she  lay  back 
in  her  chair,  looking  dreamily  into  the  fire.  After  a 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  235 

wi:ile  she  asked,  abruptly,  "  Will  you  give  it  up  if  I 
will  ? " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  couldn't." 

"  You  could  try." 

"Oh,  I'm  used  to  that." 

"  Then  it's  a  bargain,"  she  said.  She  jumped  from 
her  chair  and  went  over  to  him,  and  smoothed  his 
hair  over  his  forehead  and  kissed  the  place  she  had 
smoothed,  though  it  was  unpleasantly  damp  to  her 
lips.  "  Poor  boy,  poor  boy  !  Now,  remember  !  No 
more  jays  for  me,  and  no  more  jags  for  you.  Good 
night." 

Her  brother  broke  into  a  wild  lau^h  at  her  slano*- 

o  r> 

ing,  which  had  such  a  bizarre  effect  in  relation  to  her 
physical  delicacy. 


XXXII. 

JEFF  did  not  know  whether  Miss  Bessie  Lynde 
meant  to  go  to  Mrs.  Bevidge's  Thursdays  or  not.  He 
thought  she  might  have  been  bantering  him  by  what 
she  said,  and  he  decided  that  he  would  risk  going  to 
the  first  of  them  on  the  chance  of  meeting  her.  She 
was  not  there,  and  there  was  no  one  there  whom  he 
knew.  Mrs.  Bevidge  made  no  effort  to  enlarge  his 
acquaintance,  and  after  he  had  drunk  a  cup  of  her  tea 
he  went  away  with  rage  against  society  in  his  heart, 
which  he  promised  himself  to  vent  at  the  first  chance 
of  refusing  its  favors.  But  the  chance  seemed  not  to 
come.  The  world  which  had  opened  its  gates  to  him 
was  fast  shut  again,  and  he  had  to  make  what  he 
could  of  renouncing  it.  He  worked  pretty  hard,  and 
he  renewed  himself  in  his  fealty  to  Cynthia,  while  his 
mind  strayed  curiously  to  that  other  girl.  But  he 
had  almost  abandoned  the  hope  of  meeting  her  again, 
when  a  large  party  was  given  on  the  eve  of  the  Har 
vard  Mid-Year  Examinations,  which  end  the  younger 
gayeties  of  Boston,  for  a  fortnight  at  least,  in  Janu 
ary.  The  party  was  so  large  that  the  invitations  over 
flowed  the  strict  bounds  of  society  at  some  points.  In 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  237 

the  case  of  Jeff  Durgin  the  excess  was  intentional  be 
yond  the  vague  benevolence  which  prompted  the  giver 
of  the  party  to  ask  certain  other  outsiders.  She  was 
a  lady  of  a  soul  several  sizes  larger  than  the  souls  of 
some  other  society  leaders ;  she  was  not  afraid  to  do 
as  she  liked ;  for  instance,  she  had  not  only  met  the 
Vostrands  at  Westover's  tea,  several  years  before,  but 
she  had  afterwards  offered  some  hospitalities  to  those 
ladies  which  had  discharged  her  whole  duty  towards 
them  without  involving  her  in  any  disadvantages.  Jeff 
had  been  presented  to  her  at  Westover's,  but  she  dis 
liked  him  so  promptly  and  decidedly  that  she  had 
left  him  out  of  even  the  things  that  she  asked  some 
other  jays  to,  like  lectures  and  parlor  readings  for  good 
objects.  It  was  not  until  one  of  her  daughters  met 
him,  first  at  Willie  Morland's  tea  and  then  at  Mrs. 
Bevidge's  meeting,  that  her  social  conscience  con 
cerned  itself  with  him.  At  the  first  her  daughter  had 
not  spoken  to  him,  as  might  very  well  have  happened, 
since  Bessie  Lynde  had  kept  him  away  with  her  nearly 
all  the  time ;  but  at  the  last  she  had  bowed  pleasantly 
to  him  across  the  room,  and  Jeff  had  responded  with 
a  stiff  obeisance,  whose  coldness  she  felt  the  more  for 
having  been  somewhat  softened  herself  in  Mrs.  Bev 
idge's  altruistic  atmosphere. 

"  I  think  he  was  hurt,  mamma,"  the  girl  explained 
to  her  mother,  "that  you've  never  had  him  to  any 
thing.  I  suppose  they  must  feel  it." 

"  Oh,  well,  send  him  a  card,  then,"  said  her  mother; 
and  when  Jeff  got  the  card,  rather  near  the  eleventh 
hour,  he  made  haste  to  accept,  not  because  he  cared 


238  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

to  go  to  Mrs.  Enderby's  house,  but  because  he  hoped 
he  should  meet  Miss  Lynde  there. 

Bessie  was  the  first  person  he  met  after  he  turned 
from  paying  his  duty  to  the  hostess.  She  was  with 
her  aunt,  and  she  presented  him,  and  promised  him  a 
dance,  which  she  let  him  write  on  her  card.  She  sat 
out  another  dance  with  him,  and  he  took  her  to  supper. 

To  Westover,  who  had  gone  with  the  increasing 
forlornness  a  man  feels  in  such  pleasures  after  thirty- 
five,  it  seemed  as  if  the  two  were  in  each  other's 
company  the  whole  evening.  The  impression  was  so 
strong  with  him  that  when  Jeff  restored  Bessie  to  her 
aunt  for  the  dance  that  was  to  be  for  some  one  else, 
and  came  back  to  the  supper-room,  the  painter  tried 
to  satisfy  a  certain  uneasiness  by  making  talk  with 
him.  But  Jeff  would  not  talk ;  he  got  away  with  a 
bottle  of  champagne,  which  he  had  captured,  and  a 
plate  heaped  with  croquettes  and  pease,  and  galantine 
and  salad.  There  were  no  ladies  left  in  the  room  by 
that  time,  and  few  yonng  men;  but  the  oldsters 
crowded  the  place,  with  their  bald  heads  devoutly 
bowed  over  their  victual,  or  their  frosty  mustaches 
bathed  in  their  drink,  singly  or  in  groups  ;  the  noise 
of  their  talk  and  laughter  mixed  with  the  sound  of 
their  eating  and  drinking,  and  the  clash  of  the  knives 
and  dishes.  Over  their  stooped  shoulders  and  past 
their  rounded  stomachs  Westover  saw  Alan  Lynde 
vaguely  making  his  way  with  a  glass  in  his  hand,  and 
looking  vaguely  about  for  wine ;  he  saw  Jeff  catch  his 
wandering  eye,  and  make  offer  of  his  bottle,  and  then 
saw  Lynde,  after  a  moment  of  haughty  pause,  unbend 


THE    LANDLORD    AT   LION'S    HEAD.  239 

and  accept  it.  His  thin  face  was  flushed,  and  his  hair 
tossed  over  his  forehead,  but  Jeff  seemed  not  to  take 
note  of  that.  He  laughed  boisterously  at  something 
Lynde  said,  and  kept  tilling  his  glass  for  him.  His 
own  color  remained  clear  and  cool.  It  was  as  if  his 
powerful  physique  absorbed  the  wine  before  it  could 
reach  his  brain. 

Westover  wanted  to  interfere,  and  so  far  as  Jeff  was 
concerned  he  would  not  have  hesitated;  but  Lynde 
was  concerned,  too,  and  you  cannot  save  such  a  man 
from  himself  without  offense.  He  made  his  way  to 
the  young  man,  hoping  he  might  somehow  have  the 
courage  he  wanted. 

Jeff  held  up  the  bottle,  and  called  to  him,  "  Get 
yourself  a  glass,  Mr.  Westover."  He  put  on  the  air 
of  a  host,  and  would  hardly  be  denied.  "  Know  Mr. 
Westover,  Mr.  Lynde  ?  Just  talking  about  you,"  he 
explained  to  Westover. 

Alan  had  to  look  twice  at  the  painter.  "  Oh,  yes, 
Mr.  Durgin,  here — telling  me  about  his  place  in  the 
mountains.  Says  you've  been  there.  Going — going 
myself  in  the  summer.  See  his — horses."  He  made 
pauses  between  his  words  as  some  people  do  when 
they  try  to  keep  from  stammering. 

Westover  believed  Lynde  understood  Jeff  to  be  a 
country  gentleman  of  sporting  tastes,  and  he  would 
not  let  that  pass.  "  Yes,  it's  the  pleasantest  little  ho 
tel  in  the  mountains." 

"  Strictly — temperance,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Alan,  try 
ing  to  smile  with  lips  that  obeyed  him  stiffly.  He 
appeared  not  to  care  who  or  what  Jeff  was ;  the  cham- 


240  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD 

pagne  had  washed  away  all  differences  between  them. 
He  went  on  to  say  that  he  had  heard  of  Jeff's  intention 
of  running  the  hotel  himself  when  he  got  out  of  Har 
vard.  He  held  it  to  be  damned  good  stuff. 

Jeff  laughed.  "Your  sister  wouldn't  believe  me 
when  I  told  her." 

"  I  think  I  didn't  mention  Miss  Lynde,"  said  Alan, 
haughtily. 

Jeff  filled  his  glass ;  Alan  looked  at  it,  faltered,  and 
then  drank  it  off.  The  talk  began  again  between  the 
young  men,  but  it  left  Westover  out,  and  he  had  to  go 
away.  Whether  Jeff  was  getting  Lynde  beyond  him 
self  from  the  love  of  mischief,  such  as  had  prompted 
him  to  tease  little  children  in  his  boyhood,  or  was 
trying  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  young  fellow 
through  his  weakness,  or  doing  him  harm  out  of  mere 
thoughtlessness,  Westover  came  away  very  unhappy  at 
what  he  had  seen.  His  unhappiness  connected  itself 
so  distinctly  with  Lynde's  family  that  he  went  and 
sat  down  beside  Miss  Lynde  from  an  obscure  impulse 
of  compassion,  and  tried  to  talk  with  her.  It  would 
not  have  been  so  hard  if  she  were  merely  deaf,  for 
she  had  the  skill  of  deaf  people  in  arranging  the  con 
versation  so  that  a  nodded  yes  or  no  would  be  all  that 
was  needed  to  carry  it  forward.  But  to  Westover  she 
was  terribly  dull,  and  he  was  gasping,  as  in  an  ex 
hausted  receiver,  when  Bessie  came  up  with  a  smile  of 
radiant  recognition  for  his  extremity.  She  got  rid  of 
her  partner,  and  devoted  herself  at  once  to  Westover. 
"  How  good  of  you  !  "  she  said,  without  giving  him 
the  pain  of  an  awkward  disclaimer. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  241 

He  could  counter  in  equal  sincerity  and  ambiguity, 
"  How  beautiful  of  you." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  am  looking  rather  well,  to 
night  ;  but  don't  you  think  effective  would  have  been  a 
better  word  ? "  She  smiled  across  her  aunt  at  him 
out  of  a  cloud  of  pink,  from  which  her  thin  shoulders 
and  slender  neck  emerged,  and  her  arms,  gloved  to 
the  top,  fell  into  her  lap  ;  one  of  them  seemed  to  ter 
minate  naturally  in  the  fan,  which  sensitively  shared 
the  inquiescence  of  her  person. 

"  I  will  say  effective  too,  if  you  insist,"  said  West- 
over.  "  But  at  the  same  time  you're  the  most  beau 
tiful  person  here." 

"  How  lovely  of  you,  even  if  you  don't  mean  it," 
she  sighed.  "  If  girls  could  have  more  of  those  things 
said  to  them,  they  would  be  better,  don't  you  think  ? 
Or  at  least  feel  better." 

Westover  laughed.  "  We  might  organize  a  society 
— they  have  them  for  nearly  everything  now — for 
saying  pleasant  things  to  young  ladies  with  a  view  to 
the  moral  effect." 

"Oh,  do!" 

"  But  it  ought  to  be  done  conscientiously,  and  you 
couldn't  go  round  telling  every  one  that  she  was  the 
most  beautiful  girl  in  the  room." 

"  Why  not  ?     She'd  believe  it !  " 

"  Yes ;  but  the  effect  on  the  members  of  the  soci 
ety  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  that !  But  you  could  vary  it  so  as  to 
save  your  conscience.  You  could  say,  *  How  divinely 
you're  looking  ! '  or  '  How  angelic  ! '  or  '  You're  the 


242  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

very  poetry  of  motion,'  or  '  You  are  grace  itself,'  or 
*  Your  gown  is  a  perfect  dream,'  or  any  little  common 
place,  and  every  one  would  take  it  for  praise  of  her 
personal  appearance,  and  feel  herself  a  great  beauty, 
just  as  I  do  now,  though  I  know  very  well  that  I'm 
all  out  of  drawing,  and  just  chicqued  together." 

"  I  couldn't  allow  any  one  but  you  to  say  that,  Miss 
Bessie ;  and  I  only  let  it  pass  because  you  say  it  so 
well." 

"  Yes ;  you're  always  so  good  !  You  wouldn't  con 
tradict  me  even  when  you  turned  me  out  of  your 
class." 

"Did  I  turn  you  out  of  my  class  ? " 

"  Not  just  in  so  many  words,  but  when  I  said  I 
couldn't  do  anything  in  art,  you  didn't  insist  that  it 
was  because  I  wouldn't,  and  of  course  then  I  had  to 
go.  I've  never  forgiven  you,  Mr.  Westover,  never  ! 
Do  keep  on  talking  very  excitedly  ;  there's  a  man  com 
ing  up  to  us  that  I  don't  want  to  think  I  see  him,  or 
he'll  stop.  There !  He's  veered  off !  Where  were 
you,  Mr.  Westover  ? " 

"  Ah,  Miss  Bessie,"  said  the  painter,  delighted  at 
her  drama.  "  There  isn't  anything  you  couldn't  do  if 
you  would." 

"  You  mean  parlor  entertainments  ;  impersonations  ; 
impressions ;  that  sort  of  thing  ?  I  have  thought  of  it. 
But  it  would  be  too  easy.  I  want  to  try  something 
difficult." 

"  For  instance." 

"  Well,  being  very,  very  good.  I  want  something 
that  would  really  tax  my  powers.  I  should  like  to  be 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  243 

an  example.  I  tried  it  the  other  night  just  before  I 
went  to  sleep,  and  it  was  fine.  I  became  an  example 
to  others.  But  when  I  woke  up — I  went  on  in  the 
old  way.  I  want  something  hard,  don't  you  know ; 
but  I  want  it  to  be  easy  !  " 

She  laughed,  and  Westover  said :  "  I  am  glad  you're 
not  serious.  No  one  ought  to  be  an  example  to  others. 
To  be  exemplary  is  as  dangerous  as  to  be  compliment 
ary." 

"  It  certainly  isn't  so  agreeable  to  the  object,"  said 
the  girl.  "  But  it's  fine  for  the  subject  as  long  as  it 
lasts.  How  metaphysical  we're  getting  !  The  object 
ive  and  the  subjective.  It's  quite  what  I  should  expect 
of  talk  at  a  Boston  dance  if  I  were  a  New-Yorker. 
Have  you  seen  anything  of  my  brother,  within  the  last 
hour  or  so,  Mr.  Westover  ? " 

"  Yes;  I  just  left  him  in  the  supper-room.  Shall  I 
go  get  him  for  you  ?  "  When  he  had  said  this,  with 
the  notion  of  rescuing  him  from  Jeff,  Westover  was 
sorry,  for  he  doubted  if  Alan  Lynde  were  any  longer 
in  the  state  to  be  brought  away  from  the  supper-room, 
and  he  was  glad  to  have  Bessie  say : 

"  No,  no.  He'll  look  us  up  in  the  course  of  the 
evening — or  the  morning." 

A  young  fellow  came  to  claim  her  for  a  dance,  and 
Westover  had  not  the  face  to  leave  Miss  Lynde,  all 
the  less  because  she  told  him  he  must  not  think  of 
staying.  He  stayed  till  the  dance  was  over,  and 
Bessie  came  back  to  him. 

"  What  time  is  it,  Mr.  Westover  ?  I  see  my  aunt 
beginning  to  nod  on  her  perch." 


244  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

Westover  looked  at  his  watch.  "  It's  ten  minutes 
past  two." 

"  How  early  !  "  sighed  the  girl.  "  I'm  tired  of  it, 
aren't  you? " 

"  Very,"  said  Westover.  "  I  was  tired  an  hour 
ago." 

Bessie  sank  back  in  her  chair  with  an  air  of  nervous 
collapse,  and  did  not  say  anything.  Westover  saw 
her  watching  the  young  couples  who  passed  in  and  out 
of  the  room  where  the  dancing  was,  or  found  corners 
on  sofas,  or  window-seats,  or  sheltered  spaces  beside 
the  doors  and  the  chimney-piece,  the  girls  panting  and 
the  men  leaning  forward  to  fan  them.  She  looked 
very  tired  of  it;  and  when  a  young  fellow  came  up 
and  asked  her  to  dance,  she  told  him  that  she  was 
provisionally  engaged.  "  Come  back  and  get  me,  if 
you  can't  do  better,"  she  said,  and  he  answered  there 
was  no  use  trying  to  do  better,  and  said  he  would  wait 
till  the  other  man  turned  up,  or  didn't,  if  she  would 
let  him.  He  sat  down  beside  her,  and  some  young 
talk  began  between  them. 

In  the  midst  of  it  Jeff  appeared.  He  looked  at 
Westover  first,  and  then  approached  with  an  embar 
rassed  face. 

Bessie  got  vividly  to  her  feet.  "  No  apologies,  Mr. 
Durgin,  please  !  But  in  just  another  moment  you'd 
have  lost  your  dance." 

Westover  saw  what  he  believed  a  change  pass  in 
Jeff's  look  from  embarrassment  to  surprise  and  then 
to  flattered  intelligence.  He  beamed  all  over ;  and  he 
went  away  with  Bessie  towards  the  ballroom,  and  left 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  245 

Westover  to  a  wholly  unsupported  belief  that  she  had 
not  been  engaged  to  dance  with  Jeff.  He  wondered 
what  her  reckless  meaning  could  be,  but  he  had  al 
ways  thought  her  a  young  lady  singularly  fitted  by 
nature  and  art  to  take  care  of  herself,  and  when  he 
reasoned  upon  what  was  in  his  mind  he  had  to  own 
that  there  was  no  harm  in  Jeff's  dancing  with  her. 

He  took  leave  of  Miss  Lynde,  and  was  going  to  get 
his  coat  and  hat  for  his  walk  home  when  he  was  mys 
teriously  stopped  in  a  corner  of  the  stairs  by  one  of 
the  caterer's  men  whom  he  knew.  It  is  so  unnatural 
to  be  addressed  by  a  servant  at  all  unless  he  asks  you 
if  you  will  have  something  to  eat  or  drink,  that  West- 
over  was  in  a  manner  prepared  to  have  him  say  some 
thing  startling.  "  It's  about  young  Mr.  Lynde,  sor. 
We've  got  urn  in  one  of  the  rooms  up-stairs,  but  he 
ain't  fit  to  go  home  alone,  and  I've  been  lookin'  for 
somebody  that  knows  the  family  to  help  get  um  into 
a  car'ge.  He  won't  go  for  anny  of  us,  sor." 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  asked  Westover,  in  anguish  at  be 
ing  unable  to  refuse  the  appeal,  but  loathing  the  office 
put  upon  him. 

"  I'll  show  you,  sor,"  said  the  caterer's  man,  and  he 
sprang  up  the  stairs  before  Westover,  with  glad  alac 
rity. 


XXXIII. 

IN  a  little  room  at  the  side  of  that  where  the  men's 
hats  and  coats  were  checked,  Alan  Lynde  sat  drooping 
forward  in  an  arm-chair,  with  his  head  fallen  on  his 
breast.  He  roused  himself  at  the  flash  of  the  burner 
which  the  man  turned  up.  "  What's  all  this  ?  "  he  de 
manded,  haughtily.  "  Where's  the  carriage  ?  What's 
the  matter  ? " 

"  Your  carriage  is  waiting,  Lynde,"  said  Westover. 
"  I'll  see  you  down  to  it,"  and  he  murmured  hope 
lessly  to  the  caterer's  man,  "  Is  there  any  back  way  ?  " 

"  There's  the  wan  we  got  um  up  by." 

"  It  will  do,"  said  Westover,  as  simply. 

But  Lynde  called  out  defiantly :  "  Back  way ;  I 
sha'n't  go  down  back  way.  Inshult  to  guest.  I  wish 
— say — good-night  to — Mrs.  Enderby.  Who  you, 
anyway  ?  Damn  caterer's  man  ?  " 

"  I'm  Westover,  Lynde,"  the  painter  began,  but  the 
young  fellow  broke  in  upon  him,  shaking  his  hand  and 
then  taking  his  arm. 

"Oh,  Westover!  All  right!  I'll  go  down  back 
way  with  you.  Thought — thought  it  was  damn  cater 
er's  man.  No — offense." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  247 

"  No,  It's  all  right."  Westover  got  his  arm  under 
Lynde's  elbow,  and,  with  the  man  going  before  for 
them  to  fall  upon  jointly  in  case  they  should  stumble, 
he  got  him  down  the  dark  and  twisting  stairs  and 
through  the  basement  hall,  which  was  vaguely  haunted 
by  the  dispossessed  women  servants  of  the  family,  and 
so  out  upon  the  pavement  of  the  moonlighted  streets. 

"  Call  Miss  Lynde's  car'ge,"  shouted  the  caterer's 
man  to  the  barker,  and  escaped  back  into  the  base 
ment,  leaving  Westover  to  stay  his  helpless  charge  on 
the  sidewalk. 

It  seemed  a  publication  of  the  wretch's  shame  when 
the  barker  began  to  fill  the  night  with  hoarse  cries  of, 
"  Miss  Lynde's  carriage ;  carriage  for  Miss  Lynde  !  " 
The  cries  were  taken  up  by  a  coachman  here  and  there 
in  the  rank  of  vehicles  whose  varnished  roofs  shone 
in  the  moon  up  and  down  the  street.  After  a  time 
that  Westover  of  course  felt  to  be  longer  than  it  was, 
Miss  Lynde's  old  coachman  was  roused  from  his  sleep 
on  the  box  and  started  out  of  the  rank.  He  took  in 
the  situation  with  the  eye  of  custom,  when  he  saw 
Alan  supported  on  the  sidewalk  by  a  stranger  at  the 
end  of  the  canopy  covering  the  pavement. 

He  •  said,  "  Oh,  ahl  right,  sor  !  "  and  when  the  two 
white-gloved  policemen  from  either  side  of  it  helped 
Westover  into  the  carriage  with  Lynde,  he  set  off  at  a 
quick  trot.  The  policemen  clapped  their  hands  to 
gether,  and  smiled  across  the  strip  of  carpet  that  sep 
arated  them,  and  winks  and  nods  of  intelligence  passed 
among  the  barkers  to  the  footmen  about  the  curb  and 
steps.  There  were  none  of  them  sorry  to  see  a  gen- 


24:8  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

tleman  in  that  state ;  some  of  them  had  perhaps  seen 
Alan  in  that  state  before. 

Half-way  home  he  roused  himself  and  put  his  hand 
on  the  carriage-door  latch.  "  Tell  the  coachman  drive 
us  to — the — club.  Make  night  of  it." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Westover,  trying  to  restrain  him. 
"  We'd  better  go  right  on  to  your  house." 

"  Who — who — who  are  you  ?  "  demanded  Alan. 

"  Westover." 

"  Oh,  yes — Westover.  Thought  we  left  Westover 
at  Mrs. — Enderby's.  Thought  it  was  that  jay— 
What's  his  name  ?  Durgin.  He's  awful  jay,  but  civil 
to  me,  and  I  want  be  civil  to  him.  You're  not — jay  ? 
No  ?  That's  right.  Fellow  made  me  sick;  but  I  took 
his — champagne  ;  and  I  must — show  him  some — at 
tention."  He  released  the  door-handle,  and  fell  back 
against  the  cushioned  carriage  wall.  "  He's  a  black 
guard  !  "  he  said,  sourly.  "  Not — simple  jay — black 
guard,  too.  No — no — business  bring  in  my  sister's 
name,  hey  ?  You — you  say  it's — Westover  ?  Oh,  yes, 
Westover.  Old  friend  of  family.  Tell  you  good  joke, 
Westover — my  sister's.  No  more  jays  for  me,  no 
more  jags  for  you.  That's  what  she  say— just  between 
her  and  me,  you  know  ;  she's  a  lady,  Bess  is ;  knows 
when  to  use — slang.  Mark — mark  of  a  lady  know 
when  to  use — slang.  Pretty  good — jays  and  jags. 
Guess  we  didn't  count  this  time — either  of  us." 

When  the  carriage  pulled  up  before  Miss  Lynde's 
house,  Westover  opened  the  door.  "  You're  at  home, 
now,  Lynde.  Come,  let's  get  out." 

Lynde  did  not  stir.     He  asked  Westover  again  who 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  249 

he  was,  and  when  he  had  made  sure  of  him,  he  said, 
with  dignity,  Very  well ;  now  they  must  get  the  other 
fellow.  Westover  entreated  ;  he  even  reasoned  ;  Lynde 
lay  back  in  the  corner  of  the  carriage,  and  seemed 
asleep. 

Westover  thought  of  pulling  him  up  and  getting 
him  in-doors  by  main  force.  He  appealed  to  the 
coachman  to  know  if  they  could  not  do  it  together. 

"  Why,  you  see,  I  couldn't  leave  me  harsses,  sor," 
said  the  coachman.  "  What's  he  wants,  sor  ?  "  He 
bent  urbanely  down  from  his  box  and  listened  to  the 
explanation  that  Westover  made  him,  standing  in  the 
cold  on  the  curb-stone,  with  one  hand  on  the  carriage 
door.  "  Then  it's  no  use,  sor,"  the  man  decided. 
"  Whin  he's  that  way,  ahl  hell  couldn't  stir  um.  Best 
go  back,  sor,  and  try  to  find  the  gentleman." 

This  was  in  the  end  what  Westover  had  to  do,  feel 
ing  all  the  time  that  a  thing  so  frantically  absurd  could 
not  be  a  waking  act,  but  helpless  to  escape  from  its 
performance.  He  thought  of  abandoning  his  charge 
and  leaving  him  to  his  fate  when  he  opened  the  car 
riage  door  before  Mrs.  Enderby's  house ;  but  with  the 
next  thought  he  perceived  that  this  was  on  all  accounts 
impossible.  He  went  in,  and  began  his  quest  for  Jeff, 
sending  various  serving-men  about  with  vague  descrip 
tions  of  him,  and  asking  for  him  of  departing  guests, 
mostly  young  men  he  did  not  know,  but  who,  he 
thought,  might  know  Jeff. 

He  had  to  take  off  his  overcoat  at  last,  and  reappear 
at  the  ball.  The  crowd  was  still  great,  but  visibly  less 
dense  than  it  had  been.  By  a  sudden  inspiration  he 


250  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

made  his  way  to  the  supper-room,  and  he  found  Jeff 
there,  filling  a  plate,  as  if  he  were  about  to  carry  it  off 
somewhere.  He  commanded  Jeff's  instant  presence 
in  the  carriage  outside ;  he  told  him  of  Alan's  desire 
for  him. 

Jeff  leaned  back  against  the  wall  with  the  plate  in 
his  hand  and  laughed  till  it  half  slipped  from  his  hold. 
When  he  could  'get  his  breath,  he  said:  "I'll  be  back 
in  a  few  minutes ;  I've  got  to  take  this  to  Miss  Bessie 
Lynde.  But  I'll  be  right  back." 

Westover  hardly  believed  him.  But  when  he  got 
on  his  own  things  again,  Jeff  joined  him  in  his  hat 
and  overcoat,  and  they  went  out  together. 

It  was  another  carriage  that  stopped  the  way  now, 
and  once  more  the  barker  made  the  night  ring  with 
what  Westover  felt  his  heartless  and  shameless  cries 
for  Miss  Lynde's  carriage.  After  a  maddening  delay, 
it  lagged  up  to  the  curb  and  Jeff  pulled  the  door 
open. 

"  Hello  !  "  he  said.     "  There's  nobody  here  !  " 

'•Nobody  there?"  cried  Westover,  and  they  fell 
upon  the  coachman  with  wild  question  and  reproach ; 
the  policeman  had  to  tell  him  at  last  that  the  carriage 
must  move  on,  to  make  way  for  others. 

The  coachman  had  no  explanation  to  offer :  he  did 
not  know  how  or  when  Mr.  Alan  had  got  away. 

"  But  you  can  give  a  guess  where  he's  gone  ?  "  Jeff 
suggested,  with  a  presence  of  mind  which  Westover 
mutely  admired. 

"  Well,  sor,  I  know  where  he  do  be  gahn,  some 
times,"  the  man  admitted. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  251 

"Well,  that  will  do;  take  me  there,"  said  Jeff. 
"  You  go  in  and  account  for  me  to  Miss  Lynde,"  he 
instructed  Westover,  across  his  shoulder.  "  I'll  get 
him  home  before  morning,  somehow  ;  and  I'll  send  the 
carriage  right  back  for  the  ladies,  now." 

Westover  had  the  forethought  to  decide  that  Miss 
Bessie  should  ask  for  Jeff  if  she  wanted  him,  and  this 
simplified  matters  very  much.  She  asked  nothing 
about  him.  At  sight  of  Westover  coming  up  to  her 
where  she  sat  with  her  aunt,  she  merely  said,  "  Why, 
Mr.  Westover!  I  thought  you  took  leave  of  this 
scene  of  gayety  long  ago." 

"  Did  you?"  Westover  returned  provisionally,  and 
she  saved  him  from  the  sin  of  framing  some  deceit  in 
final  answer  by  her  next  question. 

"  Have  you  seen  anything  of  Alan  lately  ? "  she 
asked,  in  a  voice  involuntarily  lowered. 

Westover  replied  in  the  same  octave,  "  Yes,  I  saw 
him  going  a  good  while  ago." 

"  Oh ! "  said  the  girl.  "  Then  I  think  my  aunt  and 
I  had  better  go,  too." 

Still  she  did  not  go,  and  there  was  an  interval  in 
which  she  had  the  air  of  vaguely  waiting.  To  West- 
over's  vision,  the  young  people  still  passing  to  and 
from  the  ballroom  were  like  the  painted  figures  of  a 
picture  quickened  with  sudden  animation.  There  were 
scarcely  any  elders  to  be  seen  now,  except  the  chaper 
ons,  who  sat  in  their  places  with  iron  fortitude ;  West- 
over  realized  that  he  was  the  only  man  of  his  age  left. 
He  felt  that  the  lights  ought  to  have  grown  dim,  but 
the  place  was  as  brilliant  as  ever.  A  window  had  been 


252  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

opened  somewhere,  and  the  cold  breath  of  the  night 
was  drawing  through  the  heated  rooms. 

He  was  content  to  have  Bessie  stay  on,  though  he 
was  almost  dropping  with  sleep,  for  he  was  afraid  that 
if  she  went  at  once,  the  carriage  might  not  have  got 
back,  and  the  whole  affair  must  somehow  be  given 
away ;  at  last,  if  she  were  waiting,  she  decided  to  wait 
no  longer,  and  then  Westover  did  not  know  how  to 
keep  her.  He  saw  her  rise  and  stoop  over  her  aunt, 
putting  her  mouth  to  the  elder  lady's  ear,  and  he  heard 
her  saying,  "  I  am  going  home,  Aunt  Louisa."  She 
turned  sweetly  to  him.  "  Won't  you  let  us  set  you 
down,  Mr.  Westover  ? " 

"Why,  thank  you,  I  believe  I  prefer  walking.  But 
do  let  me  have  your  carriage  called,"  and  again  he 
hurried  himself  into  his  overcoat  and  hat,  and  ran 
down-stairs,  and  the  barker  a  third  time  sent  forth  his 
lamentable  cries  in  summons  of  Miss  Lynde's  carriage. 

While  he  stood  on  the  curb-stone  eagerly  peering 
up  and  down  the  street,  he  heard,  without  being  able 
either  to  enjoy  or  resent  it,  one  of  the  policemen  say 
across  him  to  the  other,  "  Miss  Lynde  seems  to  be  do- 
in'  a  livery-stable  business  to-night." 

Almost  at  the  moment  a  carriage  drove  up,  and  he 
recognized  Miss  Lynde's  coachman,  who  recognized 
him.  "  Just  got  back,  sor,"  he  whispered,  and  a  min 
ute  later  Bessie  came  daintily  out  over  the  carpeted 
way  with  her  aunt. 

"  How  good  of  you  !  "  she  said,  and  "  Good-night, 
Mr.  Westover,"  said  Miss  Lynde,  with  an  implication 
in  her  voice  that  virtue  was  peculiarly  its  own  reward 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  253 

for  those  who  performed  any  good  office  for  her  or 
hers. 

Westover  shut  them  in,  the  carriage  rolled  off,  and 
he  started  on  his  homeward  walk  with  a  long  sigh  of 
relief. 


XXXIV. 

BESSIE  asked  the  sleepy  man  who  opened  her  aunt's 
door  whether  her  brother  had  come  in  yet,  and  found 
that  he  had  not.  She  helped  her  aunt  off  up-stairs 
with  her  maid,  and  when  she  came  down  again  she 
sent  the  man  to  bed ;  she  told  him  she  was  going  to 
sit  up  and  she  would  let  her  brother  in.  The  caprices 
of  Alan's  latch-key  were  known  to  all  the  servants,  and 
the  man  understood  what  she  meant.  He  said  he  had 
left  a  light  in  the  reception-room  and  there  was  a  fire 
there ;  and  Bessie  tripped  on  down  from  the  library 
floor,  where  she  had  met  him.  She  had  put  off  her 
ball  dress  and  had  slipped  into  the  simplest  and  easiest 
of  breakfast  frocks,  which  was  by  no  means  plain. 
Bessie  had  no  plain  frocks  for  any  hour  of  the  day ; 
her  frocks  all  expressed  in  stuff  and  style  and  color,  and 
the  bravery  of  their  flying  laces  and  ribbons,  the  audac 
ity  of  spirit  with  which  she  was  herself  chicqued  to 
gether,  as  she  said.  This  one  she  had  on  now  was 
something  that  brightened  her  dull  complexion,  and 
brought  out  the  best  effect  of  her  eyes  and  mouth,  and 
seemed  the  effluence  of  her  personal  dash  and  grace. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  255 

It  made  the  most  of  her,  and  she  liked  it  beyond  all 
her  other  negligees  for  its  complaisance. 

She  got  a  book,  and  sat  down  in  a  long,  low  chair 
before  the  fire  and  crossed  her  pretty  slippers  on  the 
warm  hearth.  It  was  a  quarter  after  three  by  the  clock 
on  the  mantel ;  but  she  had  never  felt  more  eagerly 
awake.  The  party  had  not  been  altogether  to  her 
mind,  up  to  midnight,  but  after  that  it  had  been  a 
series  of  rapid  and  vivid  emotions,  which  continued 
themselves  still  in  the  tumult  of  her  nerves,  and  seemed 
to  demand  an  indefinite  sequence  of  experience.  She 
did  not  know  what  state  her  brother  might  be  in  when 
he  came  home ;  she  had  not  seen  anything  of  him  after 
she  first  went  out  to  supper ;  till  then,  though,  he  had 
kept  himself  straight,  as  he  needs  must;  but  she  could 
not  tell  what  happened  to  him  afterwards.  She  hoped 
<-,hat  he  would  come  home  able  to  talk,  for  she  wished 
co  talk.  She  wished  to  talk  about  herself ;  and  as  she 
had  already  had  flattery  enough,  she  wanted  some 
truth  about  herself;  she  wanted  Alan  to  say  what  he 
thought  of  her  behavior  the  whole  evening  with  that 
jay.  He  must  have  seen  something  of  it  in  the  be 
ginning,  and  she  should  tell  him  all  the  rest.  She 
should  tell  him  just  how  often  she  had  danced  with 
the  man,  and  how  many  dances  she  had  sat  out  with 
him;  how  she  had  pretended  once  that  she  was  en 
gaged  when  another  man  asked  her,  and  then  danced 
with  the  jay,  to  whom  she  pretended  that  he  had  en 
gaged  her  for  the  dance.  She  had  wished  to  see  how 
he  would  take  it ;  for  the  same  reason  she  had  given 
to  some  one  else  a  dance  that  was  really  his.  She 


256  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

would  tell  Alan  how  the  jay  had  asked  her  for  that 
last  dance,  and  then  never  come  near  her  again.  That 
would  give  him  the  whole  situation,  and  she  would 
know  just  what  he  thought  of  it. 

What  she  thought  of  herself  she  hardly  knew,  or 
made  believe  she  hardly  knew.  She  prided  herself 
upon  not  being  a  flirt ;  she  might  not  be  very  good,  as 
goodness  went,  but  she  was  not  despicable,  and  a  flirt 
was  despicable.  She  did  not  call  the  audacity  of  her 
behavior  with  the  jay  flirting ;  he  seemed  to  understand 
it  as  well  as  she,  and  to  meet  her  in  her  own  spirit ; 
she  wondered  now  whether  this  jay  was  really  more  in 
teresting  than  the  other  men  one  met,  or  only  different ; 
whether  he  was  original,  like  Alan  himself,  or  merely 
novel,  and  would  soon  wear  down  to  the  tiresomeness 
that  seemed  to  underlie  them  all,  and  made  one 
wish  to  do  something  dreadful.  In  the  jay's  presence 
she  had  no  wish  to  do  anything  dreadful.  Was  it 
because  he  was  dreadful  enough  for  both,  all  the  time, 
without  doing  anything  ?  She  would  like  to  ask  Alan 
that,  and  see  how  he  would  take  it.  Nothing  seemed 
to  put  the  jay  out,  so  far  as  she  had  tried,  and  she 
had  tried  some  bold  impertinences  with  him.  He  was 
very  jolly  through  them  all,  and  at  the  worst  of  them 
he  laughed  and  asked  her  for  that  dance,  which  he 
never  carne  to  claim,  though  in  the  meantime  he 
brought  her  some  belated  supper,  and  was  devoted  to 
her  and  her  aunt,  inventing  services  to  do  for  them. 
Then  suddenly  he  went  off  and  did  not  return,  and 
Mr.  Westover  mysteriously  reappeared,  and  got  their 
carriage. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  257 

She  heard  a  scratching  at  the  key-hole  of  the  out 
side  door ;  she  knew  it'  was  Alan's  latch.  She  had 
left  the  inner  door  ajar  that  there  might  be  no  uncer 
tainty  of  hearing  him,  and  she  ran  out  into  the  space 
between  that  and  the  outer  door  where  the  fumbling 
and  scraping  kept  on. 

"  Is  that  you,  Alan  ? "  she  called,  softly,  and  if  she 
had  any  doubt  before,  she  had  none  when  she  heard 
her  brother  outside,  cursing  his  luck  with  his  key  as 
usual. 

She  flung  the  door  open,  and  confronted  him  with 
another  man,  who  had  his  arms  around  him  as  if  he 
had  caught  him  from  falling  with  the  inward  pull  of 
the  door.  Alan  got  to  his  feet  and  grappled  with  the 
man,  and  insisted  that  he  should  come  in  and  make  a 
night  of  it. 

Bessie  saw  that  it  was  Jeff,  and  they  stood  a  mo 
ment,  looking  at  each  other.  Jeff  tried  to  free  himself 
with  an  appeal  to  Bessie :  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss 
Lynde.  I  walked  home  with  your  brother,  and  I  was 
just  helping  him  to  get  in — T  didn't  think  that 
you—" 

Alan  said,  with  his  measured  distinctness :  "  No 
body  cares  what  you  think.  Come  in,  and  get  some 
thing  to  carry  you  over  the  bridge.  Cambridge  cars 
stopped  running  long  ago.  I  say  you  shall !  "  He 
began  to  raise  his  voice.  A  light  flashed  in  a  window 
across  the  way,  and  a  sash  was  lifted ;  some  one  must 
be  looking  out. 

"  Oh,  come  in  with  him  !  "  Bessie  implored,  and  at 
a  little  yielding  in  Jeff,  her  brother  added : 

Q 


258  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Come  in,  you  damn  jay  !  "     He  pulled  at  Jeff. 

Jeff  made  haste  to  shut  the  door  behind  them.  He 
was  laughing ;  and  if  it  was  from  mere  brute  insensi 
bility  to  what  would  have  shocked  another  in  the  sit 
uation,  his  frank  recognition  of  its  grotesqueness  was 
of  better  effect  than  any  hopeless  effort  to  ignore  it 
would  have  been.  People  adjust  themselves  to  their 
trials ;  it  is  the  pretence  of  the  witness  that  there  is 
no  trial  which  hurts,  and  Bessie  was  not  wounded  by 
Jeff's  laugh. 

"  There's  a  fire  here  in  the  reception-room,"  she 
said.  "  Can  you  get  him  in  ?  " 

"  I  guess  so." 

Jeff  lifted  Alan  into  the  room  and  stayed  him  on 
foot  there,  while  he  took  off  his  hat  and  overcoat,  and 
then  he  let  him  sink  into  the  low  easy-chair  Bessie 
had  just  risen  from.  All  the  time,  Alan  was  bidding 
her  ring  and  have  some  champagne  and  cold  meat  set 
out  on  the  side-board,  and  she  was  lightly  promising 
and  coaxing.  But  he  drowsed  quickly  in  the  warmth, 
and  the  last  demand  for  supper  died  half  uttered  on 
his  lips. 

Jeff  asked  across  him  :  "  Can't  I  get  him  up-stairs 
for  you  ?  I  can  carry  him." 

She  shook  her  head,  and  whispered  back,  "  I  can 
leave  him  here,"  and  she  looked  at  Jeff  with  a  mo 
ment's  hesitation.  "  Did  you — do  you  think  that — 
any  one  noticed  him,  at  Mrs.  Enderby's  ? " 

"  No ;  they  had  got  him  in  a  room  by  himself — the 
caterer's  men  had." 

"  And  you  found  him  there  ?  " 


THE    LANDLOKD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  259 

"  Mr.  Westover  found  him  there,"  Jeff  answered. 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"  Didn't  he  come  to  you  after  I  left  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  told  him  to  excuse  me — " 

"  He  didn't." 

"  Well,  I  guess  he  was  pretty  badly  rattled."  Jeff 
stopped  himself  in  the  vague  laugh  of  one  who  re 
members  something  ludicrous,  and  turned  his  face 
away. 

"  Tell  me  what  it  was  ! "  she  demanded,  nervously. 

"  Mr.  Westover  had  been  home  with  him  once,  and 
he  wouldn't  stay.  He  made  Mr.  Westover  come  back 
for  me." 

"  What  did  he  want  with  you  ? " 

Jeff  shrugged. 

"  And  then  what  ?  " 

"  We  went  out  to  the  carriage,  as  soon  as  I  could 
get  away  from  you ;  but  he  wasn't  in  it.  I  sent  Mr. 
Westover  back  to  you  and  set  out  to  look  for  him." 

"  That  was  very  good  of  you.  And  I — thank  you 
for  your  kindness  to  my  brother.  I  shall  not  forget 
it.  And  I  wish  to  beg  your  pardon." 

"What  for?"  asked  Jeff,  bluntly. 

"  For  blaming  you  when  you  didn't  come  back  for 
the  dance." 

If  Bessie  had  meant  nothing  but  what  was  fitting  to 
the  moment  some  inherent  lightness  of  nature  played 
her  false.  But  even  the  histrionic  touch  which  she 
could  not  keep  out  of  her  voice,  her  manner,  another 
sort  of  man  might  have  found  merely  pathetic. 


260  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

Jeff  laughed  with  subtle  intelligence.  "  Were  you 
very  hard  on  me  ?  " 

"  Very,"  she  answered  in  kind,  forgetting  her  broth 
er,  and  the  whole  terrible  situation. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  thought  of  me,"  he  said,  and 
lie  came  a  little  nearer  to  her,  looking  very  handsome 
and  very  strong.  "  I  should  like  to  know." 

"  I  said  I  should  never  speak  to  you  again." 

"  And  you  kept  your  word,"  said  Jeff.  "  AVell, 
that's  all  right.  Good-night — or  good-morning,  which 
ever  it  is."  He  took  her  hand,  which  she  could  not 
withdraw,  or  feigned  to  herself  that  she  could  not 
withdraw,  and  looked  at  her  with  a  silent  laugh,  and 
a  hardy,  sceptical  glance  that  she  felt  take  in  every 
detail  of  her  prettiness,  her  plainness.  Then  he 
turned  and  went  out,  and  she  ran  quickly  and  locked 
the  door  upon  him. 


XXXV. 

BESSIE  crept  up  to  her  room,  where  she  spent  the 
rest  of  the  night  in  her  chair,  amidst  a  tumult  of  emo 
tion  which  she  would  have  called  thinking.  She  asked 
herself  the  most  searching  questions,  but  she  got  no 
very  candid  answers  to  them,  and  she  decided  that  she 
must  see  the  whole  fact  with  some  other's  eyes  before 
she  could  know  what  she  had  meant  or  what  she  had 
done. 

When  she  let  the  daylight  into  her  room,  it  showed 
her  a  face  in  her  mirror  that  bore  no  trace  of  conflict 
ing  anxieties.  Her  complexion  favored  this  effect  of 
inward  calm ;  it  was  always  thick ;  and  her  eyes  seemed 
to  her  all  the  brighter  for  their  vigils. 

A  smile,  even,  hovered  on  her  mouth  as  she  sat 
down  at  the  breakfast-table,  in  the  pretty  negligee  she 
had  worn  all  night,  and  poured  out  Miss  Lynde's  cof 
fee  for  her. 

"  That's  always  very  becoming  to  you,  Bessie,"  said 
her  aunt.  "  It's  the  nicest  breakfast  gown  you  have." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ? "  Bessie  looked  down  at  it, 
first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other,  as  a  woman 
always  does  when  her  dress  is  spoken  of. 

"  Mr.  Alan  said  he  would  have  his  breakfast  in  his 


262  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

room,  miss,"  murmured  the  butler,  in  husky  respect 
fulness,  as  he  returned  to  Bessie  from  carrying  Miss 
Lynde's  cup  to  her.  "  He  don't  want  anything  but  a 
little  toast  and  coffee." 

She  perceived  that  the  words  were  meant  to  make 
it  easy  for  her  to  ask,  "  Isn't  he  very  well,  Andrew  ? " 

"  About  as  usual,  miss,"  said  Andrew,  a  thought 
more  sepulchral  than  before.  "  He's  going  on — about 
as  usual." 

She  knew  this  to  mean  that  he  was  going  on  from 
bad  to  worse,  and  that  his  last  night's  excess  was  the 
beginning  of  a  debauch  which  could  end  only  in  one 
way.  She  must  send  for  the  doctor ;  he  would  decide 
what  was  best,  when  he  saw  how  Alan  came  through 
the  day. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  she  heard  Mary  Enderby's 
voice  in  the  reception-room,  bidding  the  man  say, that 
if  Miss  Bessie  were  lying  down  she  would  come  up  to 
her,  or  would  go  away,  just  as  she  wished.  She  flew 
down-stairs  with  a  glad  cry  of  "  Molly !  What  an  in 
spiration  !  I  was  just  thinking  of  you,  and  wishing 
for  you.  But  I  didn't  suppose  you  were  up  yet !  " 

"  It's  pretty  early,"  said  Miss  Enderby.  "  But  I 
should  have  been  here  before  if  I  could,  for  I  knew  I 
shouldn't  wake  you,  Bessie,  with  your  habit  of  turning 
night  into  day,  and  getting  up  any  time  in  the  fore 
noon." 

"  How  dissipated  you  sound  !  " 

"  Yes,  don't  I  ?  But  I've  been  thinking  about  you 
ever  since  I  woke,  and  I  had  to  corne  and  find  out  if 
you  were  alive,  anyhow." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  263 

"  Come  up-stairs  and  see  !  "  said  Bessie,  holding 
her  friend's  hand  on  the  sofa  where  they  had  dropped 
down  together,  and  going  all  over  the  scene  of  last 
night  in  that  place,  for  the  thousandth  time. 

"  No,  no ;  I  really  mustn't.  I  hope  you  had  a  good 
time  ? " 

"  At  your  house  !  " 

"  How  dear  of  you  !  But,  Bessie,  I  got  to  thinking 
you'd  been  rather  sacrificed.  It  came  into  my  mind 
the  instant  I  woke,  and  gave  me  this  severe  case  of 
conscience.  I  suppose  it's  a  kind  of  conscience." 

"  Yes,  yes.  Go  on !  I  like  having  been  a  martyr, 
if  I  don't  know  what  about." 

"  Why,  you  know,  Bessie,  or  if  you  don't  you  will 
presently,  that  it  was  I  who  got  mamma  to  send  him 
a  card ;  I  felt  rather  sorry  for  him,  that  day  at  Mrs. 
Bevidge's,  because  she'd  so  obviously  got  him  there  to 
use  him,  and  I  got  mamma  to  ask  him.  Everything 
takes  care  of  itself,  at  a  large  affair,  and  I  thought  I 
might  trust  in  Providence  to  deal  with  him  after  he 
came ;  and  then  I  saw  you  made  a  means  the  whole 
evening !  I  didn't  reflect  that  there  always  has  to  be 
a  means  !  " 

"It's  a  question  of  Mr.  Durgin?"  said  Bessie, 
coldly  thrilling  at  the  sound  of  a  name  that  she  pro 
nounced  so  gayly  in  a  tone  of  sympathetic  amusement. 

Miss  Enderby  bobbed  her  head.  "  It  shows  that 
we  ought  never  to  do  a  good  action,  doesn't  it  ?  But, 
poor  thing  !  How  you  must  have  been  swearing  off !  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Was  it  so  very  bad  ?  I'm  trying 
to  think,"  said  Bessie,  thinking  that  after  this  begin- 


264  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

ning  it  would  be  impossible  to  confide  in  Mary  En- 
derby. 

"  Oh,  now,  Bessie  !  Don't  you  be  patient,  or  I  shall 
begin  to  lose  my  faith  in  human  nature.  Just  say  at 
once  that  it  was  an  outrage,  and  I'll  forgive  you  ! 
You  see,"  Miss  Enderby  went  on,  "  it  isn't  merely  that 
he's  a  jay ;  but  he  isn't  a  very  nice  jay.  None  of  the 
men  like  him — except  Freddy  Lancaster,  of  course; 
he  likes  everybody,  on  principle ;  he  doesn't  count.  I 
thought  that  perhaps,  although  he's  so  crude  and 
blunt,  he  might  be  sensitive  and  high-minded ;  you're 
always  reading  about  such  things;  but  they  say  he 
isn't,  in  the  least ;  oh,  not  the  least !  They  say  he 
goes  with  a  set  of  fast  jays,  and  that  he's  dreadful  ; 
though  he  has  a  very  good  mind,  and  could  do  very 
well  if  he  chose.  That's  what  cousin  Jim  said  to-day ; 
he's  just  been  at  our  house ;  and  it  was  so  extremely 
telepathic  that  I  thought  I  must  run  round  and  pre 
vent  your  having  the  man  on  your  conscience  if  you 
felt  you  had  had  too  much  of  him.  You  won't  lay 
him  up  against  us,  will  you  ? "  She  jumped  to  her 
feet. 

"  You  dear ! "  said  Bessie,  keeping  Mary  Enderby's 
hand,  and  pressing  it  between  both  of  hers  against  her 
breast  as  they  now  stood  face  to  face.  "  Do  come  up 
and  have  some  tea  !  " 

"  No,  no  !     Really,  I  can't." 

They  were  both  involuntarily  silent.  The  door  had 
been  opened  to  some  one,  and  there  was  a  brief  parley, 
which  ended  in  a  voice  they  knew  to  be  the  doctor's, 
saying,  "  Then  I'll  go  right  up  to  his  room."  Both 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  265 

the  girls  broke  into  laughing  adieux,  to  hide  their 
consciousness  that  the  doctor  was  going  up  to  see 
Alan  Lynde,  who  was  never  sick  except  in  the  one 
way. 

Miss  En  derby  even  said,  "  I  was  so  glad  to  see  Alan 
looking  so  well,  last  night." 

"  Yes,  he  had  such  a  good  time,"  said  Bessie,  and 
she  followed  her  friend  to  the  door,  where  she  kissed 
her  reassuringly,  and  thanked  her  for  taking  all  the 
trouble  she  had,  bidding  her  not  be  the  least  anxious 
on  her  account. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  should  sink  upon  the  stairs 
in  mounting  them  to  the  library.  Mary  Enderby  had 
told  her  only  what  she  had  known  before  ;  it  was  what 
her  brother  had  told  her ;  but  then  it  had  not  been 
possible  for  the  man  to  say  that  he  had  brought  Alan 
home  tipsy,  and  been  alone  in  the  house  with  her  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  He  would  not  only 
boast  of  it  to  all  that  vulgar  comradehood  of  his,  but 
it  might  get  into  those  terrible  papers,  which  published 
the  society  scandals.  There  would  be  no  way  but  to 
appeal  to  his  pity,  his  generosity.  She  fancied  herself 
writing  to  him,  but  he  could  show  her  note,  and  she 
must  send  for  him  to  come  and  see  her,  and  try  to 
put  him  on  his  honor.  Or,  that  would  not  do,  either. 
She  must  make  it  happen  that  they  should  be  thrown 
together,  and  then  speak  to  him.  Even  that  might 
make  him  think  she  was  afraid  of  him ;  or  he  might 
take  it  wrong,  and  believe  that  she  cared  for  him.  He 
had  really  been  very  good  to  Alan,  and  she  tried  to 
feel  safe  in  the  thought  of  that.  She  did  feel  safe  for 


266  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

a  moment;  but  if  slie  had  meant  nothing  but  to  make 
him  believe  her  grateful,  what  must  he  infer  from  her 
talking  to  him  in  the  light  way  she  did  about  forgiving 
him  for  not  coming  back  to  dance  with  her.  Her 
manner,  her  looks,  her  tone,  had  given  him  the  right 
to  say  that  she  had  been  willing  to  flirt  with  him  there, 
at  that  hour,  and  in  those  dreadful  circumstances. 

She  found  herself  lying  in  a  deep  arm-chair  in  the 
library,  when  she  was  aware  of  Dr.  Lacy  pausing  at 
the  door  and  looking  tentatively  in  upon  her. 

"  Come  in,  doctor,"  she  said,  and  she  knew  that 
her  face  was  wet  with  tears,  and  that  she  spoke  with 
the  voice  of  weeping. 

He  came  forward  and  looked  narrowly  at  her,  with 
out  sitting  down.  "  There's  nothing  to  be  alarmed 
about,  Miss  Bessie,"  he  said.  "  But  I  think  youj 
brother  had  better  leave  home  again,  for  a  while." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  blankly.  Her  mind  was  not  on 
his  words. 

"  I  will  make  the  arrangements." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Bessie,  listlessly. 

The  doctor  had  made  a  step  backward,  as  if  he  were 
going  away,  and  now  he  stopped.  "  Aren't  you  feel 
ing  quite  well,  Miss  Bessie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  and  she  began  to  cry. 

The  doctor  came  forward,  and  said,  cheerily,  "  Let 
me  see."  He  pulled  a  chair  up  to  hers,  and  took  her 
wrist  between  his  fingers.  "  If  you  were  at  Mrs.  En- 
derby's  last  night,  you'll  need  another  night  to  put 
you  just  right.  But  you're  pretty  well,  as  it  is."  He 
let  her  wrist  softly  go,  and  said :  "  You  mustn't  dis- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  267 

tress  yourself  about  your  brother's  case.  Of  course, 
it's  hard  to  have  it  happen  now  after  he's  held  up  so 
Jong ;  longer  than  it  has  been  before,  I  think,  isn't  it? 
But  it's  something  that  it  has  been  so  long.  The  next 
time,  let  us  hope,  it  will  be  longer  still." 

The  doctor  made  as  if  to  rise.  Bessie  put  her  hand 
out  to  stay  him.  "  What  is  it  makes  him  do  it  ?  " 

"  Ah,  that's  a  great  mystery,"  said  the  doctor.  "  I 
suppose  you  might  say,  the  excitement." 

"Yes!" 

"  But  it  seems  to  me  very  often,  in  such  cases,  as 
if  it  were  to  escape  the  excitement.  I  think  you're 
both  keyed  up  pretty  sharply  by  nature,  Miss  Bessie," 
said  the  doctor,  with  the  personal  kindness  he  felt  for 
the  girl,  and  the  pity  softening  his  scientific  spirit. 

"  I  know  !  "  she  answered.  "  We're  alike.  Why 
don't  I  take  to  drinking,  too  ? " 

The  doctor  laughed  at  such  a  question  from  a  young 
lady,  but  with  an  inner  seriousness  in  his  laugh,  as  if, 
coming  from  a  patient,  it  was  to  be  weighed.  "  Well, 
I  suppose  it  isn't  the  habit  of  your  sex,  Miss  Bessie." 

"  Sometimes  it  is.  Sometimes  women  get  drunk, 
and  then  I  think  they  do  less  harm  than  if  they  did 
other  things  to  get  away  from  the  excitement."  She 
longed  to  confide  in  him;  the  words  were  on  her 
tongue ;  she  believed  he  could  help  her,  tell  her  what 
to  do ;  out  of  his  stores  of  knowledge  and  experience 
he  must  have  some  suggestion,  some  remedy  ;  he  could 
advise  her ;  he  could  stand  her  friend,  so  far.  People 
told  their  doctors  all  kinds  of  things,  silly  things. 
Why  should  she  not  tell  her  doctor  this  ? 


268  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

It  would  have  been  easier  if  it  had  been  an  older 
man,  who  might  have  had  a  daughter  of  her  age.  But 
he  was  in  that  period  of  the  early  forties  when  a  doc 
tor  sometimes  has  a  matter-of-fact,  disagreeable  wife 
whose  idea  stands  between  him  and  the  spiritual  inti 
macy  of  his  patients,  so  that  it  seems  as  if  they  were 
delivering  their  confidences  rather  to  her  than  to  him. 
He  was  able,  he  was  good,  he  was  extremely  acute,  he 
was  even  with  the  latest  facts  and  theories ;  but  as  he 
sat  straight  up  in  his  chair  his  stomach  defined  itself 
as  a  half -moon  before  him,  and  he  said  to  the  quiver 
ing  heap  of  emotions  beside  him,  "You  mean  like 
breaking  hearts,  and  such  little  matters  ? " 

It  was  fatally  stupid,  and  it  beat  her  back  into  her 
self. 

u  Yes,"  she  said,  with  a  contempt  that  she  easily 
hid  from  him,  "  that's  worse  than  getting  drunk,  isn't 
it?" 

"  Well,  it  isn't  so  regarded,"  said  the  doctor,  who 
supposed  himself  to  have  made  a  sprightly  answer, 
and  laughed  at  it.  "  I  wish,  Miss  Bessie,  you'd  take 
a  little  remedy  I'm  going  to  send  you.  You've  merely 
been  up  too  late,  but  it's  a  very  good  thing  for  people 
who've  been  up  too  late." 

"  Thank  you.      And  about  my  brother  ? " 

"  Oh  !  I'll  send  a  man  to  look  after  him  to-night, 
and  to-morrow  I  really  think  he'd  better  go." 


XXXVI. 

Miss  LYNDE  had  gone  earlier  than  usual  to  bed, 
when  Bessie  heard  Alan's  door  open,  and  then  heard 
him  feeling  his  way  f umblingly  down-stairs.  She  sur 
mised  that  he  had  drunk  up  all  that  he  had  in  his 
room,  and  was  making  for  the  sideboard  in  the  dining- 
room. 

She  ran  and  got  the  two  decanters,  one  of  whiskey 
and  one  of  brandy,  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  carry 
ing  back  to  his  room  from  such  an  incursion. 

"  Alan  !  "  she  called  to  him,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Where  are  you  ?  "  he  answered  back. 

"  In  the  library,"  she  said.    "  Come  in  here,  please." 

He  came,  and  stood  looking  gloomily  in  from  the 
doorway.  He  caught  sight  of  the  decanters  and  the 
glasses  on  the  library  table.  "  Oh !  "  he  said,  and 
gave  a  laugh  cut  in  two  by  a  hiccough. 

"  Come  in,  and  shut  the  door,  Alan,"  she  said. 
"  Let's  make  a  night  of  it.  I've  got  the  materials 
here."  She  waved  her  hand  towards  the  decanters. 

Alan  shrugged.  "  /  don't  know  what  you  mean." 
But  he  came  forward,  and  slouched  into  one  of  the 
deep  chairs. 


270  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Bessie,  with  a  laugh. 
"  We're  both  excited,  and  we  want  to  get  away  from 
ourselves.  Isn't  that  what's  the  matter  with  you  when 
it  begins  ?  Doctor  Lacy  thinks  it  is." 

"Does  he?"  Alan  asked.  "I  didn't  suppose  he 
had  so  much  sense.  What  of  it  ? " 

"  Nothing.  Merely  that  I'm  going  to  drink  a  glass 
of  whiskey  and  a  glass  of  brandy  for  every  glass  that 
you  drink  to-night." 

"You  mustn't  play  the  fool,  Bess,"  said  her  broth 
er,  with  dignified  severity. 

"But  I'm  really  serious,  Alan.  Shall  I  give  you 
something  ?  Which  shall  we  begin  on  ?  And  we'd 
better  begin  soon,  for  there's  a  man  coming  from  the 
doctor  to  look  after  you,  and  then  you  won't  get  any 
thing." 

"  Don't  be  ridiculous  !  Give  me  those  decanters  !  " 
Alan  struggled  out  of  his  chair,  and  trembled  over  to 
where  she  had  them  on  the  table  beside  her. 

She  caught  them  up,  one  in  either  hand,  and  held 
them  as  high  as  she  could  lift  them.  "  If  you  don't 
sit  down  and  promise  to  keep  still,  I'll  smash  them 
both  on  the  hearth.  You  know  I  will." 

Her  strange  eyes  gleamed,  and  he  hesitated ;  then 
he  went  back  to  his  chair. 

"  I  don't  see  what's  got  into  you  to-night.  /  don't 
want  anything,"  he  said.  He  tried  to  brave  it  out, 
but  presently  he  cast  a  piteous  glance  at  the  decanters 
where  she  had  put  them  down  beside  her  again.  "  Does 
the  doctor  think  I'd  better  go  again  ? "  he  asked. 

"Yes." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  271 

"When?" 

"  To-morrow." 

He  looked  at  the  decanters.  "  And  when  is  that 
fellow  coming  ? " 

"  He  may  be  here  any  moment." 

"  It's  pretty  rough,"  he  sighed.  "  Two  glasses  of 
that  stuff  would  drive  you  so  wild  you  wouldn't  know 
where  you  were,  Bess,"  he  expostulated. 

"  Well,  I  wish  I  didn't  know  where  I  was.  I  wish 
I  wasn't  anywhere."  He  looked  at  her,  and  then 
dropped  his  eyes,  with  the  effect  of  giving  up  a  hope 
less  conundrum. 

But  he  asked,  "  What's  the  matter  ?  " 

She  scanned  him  keenly  before  she  answered: 
"  Something  that  I  should  like  to  tell  you — that  you 
ought  to  know.  Alan,  do  you  think  you  are  fit  to 
judge  of  a  very  serious  matter  ? " 

He  laughed  pathetically.  "  I  don't  believe  I'm  in 
a  very  judicial  frame  of  mind  to-night,  Bess.  To 
morrow — " 

"  Oh,  to-morrow  !    Where  will  you  be  to-morrow  ? " 

"  That's  true  !  Well,  what  is  it  ?  I'll  try  to  listen. 
But  if  you  knew  how  my  nerves  were  going."  His 
eyes  wandered  from  hers  back  to  the  decanters.  "  If 
I  had  just  one  glass — " 

"  I'll  have  one,  too,"  she  said,  with  a  motion  tow 
ards  the  decanter  next  her. 

He  threw  up  his  arms.  "  Oh,  well,  go  on.  I'll 
listen  as  well  as  I  can."  He  sank  down  in  his  chair 
and  stretched  his  little  feet  out  toward  the  fire.  "  Go 
on ! " 


272  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

She  hesitated  before  she  began.  "  Do  you  know 
who  brought  you  home  last  night,  Alan  ? " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  quickly.      "  Westover." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Westover  brought  you,  and  you  wouldn't 
stay.  You  don't  remember  anything  else  ? " 

"  No.     What  else  ? " 

"Nothing  for  you,  if  you  don't  remember."  She 
sat  in  silent  hopelessness  for  a  while,  and  her  brother's 
eyes  dwelt  on  the  decanters,  which  she  seemed  to  have 
forgotten.  "Alan!  "she  broke  out  abruptly.  "I'm 
worried,  and  if  I  can't  tell  you  about  it,  there's  no  one 
I  can." 

The  appeal  in  her  voice  must  have  reached  him, 
though  he  seemed  scarcely  to  have  heeded  her  words. 
"  What  is  it  ? "  he  asked,  kindly. 

"  You  went  back  to  the  Enderbys'  after  Mr.  West- 
over  brought  you  home,  and  then  some  one  else  had 
to  bring  you  again." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  was  up,  and  let  you  in — " 

"  Did  you,  Bessie  ?  That  was  like  you,"  he  said, 
tenderly. 

"  And  I  had  to  let  him  in,  too.  You  pulled  him 
into  the  house,  and  you  made  such  a  disturbance  at 
the  door  that  he  had  to  come  in  for  fear  you  would 
bring  the  police." 

"  What  a  beast ! "  said  Alan,  of  himself,  as  if  it 
were  some  one  else. 

"  He  came  in  with  you.  And  you  wanted  him  to 
have  some  supper.  And  you  fell  asleep  before  the 
fire  in  the  reception-room." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD  273 

"  That — that  was  the  dream  !  "  said  Alan,  severely. 
'  What  are  you  talking  that  stuff  for,  Bessie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  she  retorted  with  a  laugh,  as  if  the 
pleasure  of  its  coming  in  so  fitly  were  compensation 
for  the  shame  of  the  fact.  "The  dream  was  what 
happened  afterwards.  The  dream  was  that  you  fell 
asleep  there,  and  left  me  there  with  him — " 

"  Well,  poor  old  Westover ;  he's  a  gentleman  !  You 
needn't  be  worried  about  him — " 

"You're  not  fit!"  cried  the  girl.  "I  give  it  up." 
She  got  upon  her  feet,  and  stood  a  moment  listless. 

"  No,  I'm  not,  Bessie.  I  can't  pull  my  mind  to 
gether  to-night.  But  look  here  ! "  He  seemed  to 
lose  what  he  wanted  to  say.  He  asked :  "Is  it  some 
thing  I've  got  you  in  for  ?  Do  I  understand  that  ?  " 

"  Partly,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  help  you  out.  You  can  trust  me, 
Bessie ;  you  can,  indeed.  You  don't  believe  it  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  believe  you  think  I  can  trust  you." 

"  But  this  time  you  can.  If  you  need  my  help  I 
will  stand  by  you,  right  or  wrong.  If  you  want  to  tell 
me  now,  I'll  listen,  and  I'll  advise  you  the  best  I  can — " 

"  It's  just  something  I've  got  nervous  about,"  she 
said,  while  her  eyes  shone  with  sudden  tears.  "  But 
I  won't  trouble  you  with  it  to-night.  There's  no  such 
great  hurry.  We  can  talk  about  it  in  the  morning  if 
you're  better  then.  Or,  I  forgot  !  You're  going 
away  !  " 

"  No,"  said  the  young  man,  with  pathetic  dignity, 
"  I'm  not  going  if  you  need  my  help.  But  you're 
right  about  me  to-night,  Bessie.  I'm  not  fit.  I'm 
R 


274  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

afraid  I  can't  grasp  anything  to-night.  Tell  me  in 
the  morning.  Oh,  don't  be  afraid  !  "  he  cried  out  at 
the  glance  she  gave  the  decanters.  "  That's  over,  now ; 
you  could  put  them  in  my  hands  and  be  safe  enough. 
I'm  going  back  to  bed,  and  in  the  morning " 

He  rose  and  went  towards  the  door.  "  If  that  doc 
tor's  man  comes  to-night  you  can  send  him  away 
again.  He  needn't  bother." 

"All  right,  Alan,"  she  said,  fondly.  " Good-night. 
Don't  worry  about  me.  Try  to  get  some  sleep." 

"And  you  must  sleep,  too.  You  can  trust  me, 
Bessie." 

He  came  back  after  he  got  out  of  the  room  and 
looked  in.  "  Bess,  if  you're  anxious  about  it,  if  you 
don't  feel  perfectly  sure  of  me,  you  can  take  those 
things  to  your  room  with  you."  He  indicated  the 
decanters  with  a  glance. 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  shall  leave  them  here.  It  wouldn't  be 
any  use  your  just  keeping  well  overnight.  You'll  have 
to  keep  well  a  long  time,  Alan,  if  you're  going  to  help 
me.  And  that's  the  reason  I'd  rather  talk  to  you 
when  you  can  give  your  whole  mind  to  what  I  say." 

"Is  it  something  so  serious ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  That's  for  you  to  judge.  Not  very 
— not  at  all,  perhaps." 

"  Then  I  won't  fail  you,  Bessie.  I  shall  *  keep  well,' 
as  you  call  it,  as  long  as  you  want  me.  Good-night." 

"  Good-night.  I  shall  leave  these  bottles  here,  re 
member." 

"You  needn't  be  afraid.  You  might  put  them 
beside  my  bed." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION:S    HEAD.  275 

Bessie  slept  soundly,  from  exhaustion,  and  in  that 
provisional  fashion  in  which  people  who  have  post 
poned  a  care  to  a  given  moment  are  able  to  sleep.  But 
she  woke  early,  and  crept  down-stairs  before  any  one 
else  was  astir,  and  went  to  the  library.  The  decanters 
stood  there  on  the  table,  empty.  Her  brother  lay  a 
shapeless  heap  in  one  of  the  deep  arm-chairs. 


XXXVII. 

WESTOVER  got  home  from  the  Enderby  dance  at 
last  with  the  forecast  of  a  violent  cold  in  his  system, 
which  verified  itself  the  next  morning.  He  had  been 
housed  a  week,  when  Jeff  Durgin  came  to  see  him. 
"Why  didn't  you  let  me  know  you  w  ere  sick?"  he 
demanded.  "  I'd  have  come  and  looked  after  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Wcstover,  with  as  much  stiffness 
as  he  could  command  in  his  physical  limpness.  "  I 
shouldn't  have  allowed  you  to  look  after  me ;  and  I 
want  you  to  understand,  now,  that  there  can't  be  any 
sort  of  friendliness  between  us  till  you've  accounted 
for  your  behavior  with  Lynde,  the  other  night." 

"You  mean  at  the  party?"  Jeff  asked,  tranquilly. 

"  Yes  !  "  cried  Westover.  "  If  I  had  not  been  shut 
up  ever  since,  I  should  have  gone  to  see  you  and  had 
it  out  with  you.  I've  only  let  you  in,  now,  to  give 
you  the  chance  to  explain  ;  and  I  refuse  to  hear  a  word 
from  you  till  you  do."  Westover  did  not  think  that 
this  was  very  forcible,  and  he  was  not  much  surprised 
that  it  made  Jeff  smile. 

"  Why,  I  don't  know  what  there  is  to  explain.  I 
suppose  you  think  I  got  him  drunk ;  I  know  what  you 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  277 

thought  that  night.  But  he  was  pretty  well  loaded 
when  he  struck  my  champagne.  It  wasn't  a  question 
of  what  he  was  going  to  do  any  longer,  but  how  he 
was  going  to  do  it.  I  kept  an  eye  on  him,  and  at  the 
right  time  I  helped  the  caterer's  man  to  get  him  up 
into  that  room  where  he  wouldn't  make  any  trouble. 
I  expected  to  go  back  and  look  after  him,  but  I  forgot 
him." 

"  I  don't  suppose,  really,  that  you're  aware  what  a 
devil's  argument  that  is,"  said  Westover.  "  You  got 
Lyndc  drunk,  and  then  you  went  back  to  his  sister, 
and  allowed  her  to  treat  you  as  if  you  were  a  gentle 
man,  and  didn't  deserve  to  be  thrown  out  of  the 
house."  This  at  last  was  something  like  what  West- 
over  had  imagined  he  would  say  to  Jeff,  and  he  looked 
to  see  it  have  the  imagined  effect  upon  him. 

"  Do  you  suppose,"  asked  Jeff,  with  cheerful  cyni 
cism,  "  that  it  was  the  first  time  she  was  civil  to  a  man 
her  brother  got  drunk  with  ? " 

"  No  !  But  all  the  more  you  ought  to  have  consid 
ered  her  helplessness.  It  ought  to  have  made  her  the 
more  sacred  " — Jeff  gave  an  exasperating  shrug — "  to 
you,  and  you  ought  to  have  kept  away  from  her  for 
decency's  sake." 

"  I  was  engaged  to  dance  with  her." 

"  I  can't  allow  you  to  be  trivial  with  me,  Durgin," 
said  Westover.  "  You've  acted  like  a  blackguard,  and 
worse,  if  there  is  anything  worse." 

Jeff  stood  at  a  corner  of  the  fire,  leaning  one  elbow 
on  the  mantel,  and  he  now  looked  thoughtfully  down 
on  Westover,  who  had  sunk  weakly  into  a  chair  before 


278  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

the  Hearth.  "  I  don't  deny  it  from  your  point  of  view, 
Mr.  Westover,"  he  said,  without  the  least  resentment 
in  his  tone.  "  You  believe  that  everything  is  done 
from  a  purpose,  or  that  a  thing  is  intended  because 
it's  done.  But  I  see  that  most  things  in  this  world 
arc  not  thought  about,  and  not  intended.  They  hap 
pen,  just  as  much  as  the  other  things  that  we  call 
accidents." 

"  Yes,"  said  Westover,  "  but  the  wrong  things  don't 
happen  from  people  who  are  in  the  habit  of  meaning 
the  right  ones." 

"  I  believe  they  do,  fully  half  the  time,"  Jeff  re 
turned;  "and  as  far  as  the  grand  result  is  concerned 
you  might  as  well  think  them  and  intend  them  as  not. 
I  don't  mean  that  you  ought  to  do  it ;  that's  another 
thing,  and  if  I  had  tried  to  get  Lynde  drunk,  and  then 
gone  to  dance  with  his  sister,  I  should  have  been  what 
you  say  I  am.  But  I  saw  him  getting  worse  without 
meaning  to  make  him  so ;  and  I  went  back  to  her  -be 
cause — I  wanted  to." 

"  And  you  think,  I  suppose,"  said  Westover,  "  that 
she  wouldn't  have  cared  any  more  than  you  cared  if 
she  had  known  what  you  did." 

"  I  can't  say  anything  about  that." 

The  painter  continued,  bitterly :  "  You  used  to  come 
in  here,  the  first  year,  with  notions  of  society  women 
that  would  have  disgraced  a  Goth,  or  a  gorilla.  Did 
you  form  your  estimate  of  Miss  Lynde  from  those 
premises  ? " 

"I'm  not  a  boy  now,"  Jeff  answered,  "and  I 
haven't  stayed  all  the  kinds  of  a  fool  I  was." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  279 

"  Then  you  don't  think  Miss  Lyndc  would  speak  to 
you,  or  look  at  you,  after  she  knew  what  you  had 
done  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  tell  her  and  see,"  said  Jeff,  with 
a  hardy  laugh.  "  But  I  guess  I  sha'n't  have  the 
chance.  I've  never  been  a  favorite  in  society,  and  I 
don't  expect  to  meet  her  again." 

"  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  have  me  tell  her  ? " 

"  Why,  yes,  I  believe  I  should,  if  you  could  tell 
me  what  she  thought — not  what  she  said  about  it." 

"You  are  a  brute,"  answered  Westover,  with  a  puz 
zled  air.  What  puzzled  him  most  and  pleased  him 
least  was  the- fellow's  patience  under  his  severity,  which 
he  seemed  either  not  to  feel  or  not  to  mind.  It  was 
of  a  piece  with  the  behavior  of  the  rascally  boy  whom 
he  had  cuffed  for  frightening  Cynthia  and  her  little 
brother  long  ago,  and  he  wondered  what  final  malvo- 
lence  it  portended. 

Jeff  said,  as  if  their  controversy  were  at  an  end  and 
they  might  now  turn  to  more  personal  things  :  "  You 
look  pretty  slim,  Mr.  Westover.  A'n't  there  some 
thing  I  can  do  for  you — get  you  ?  I've  come  in  with 
a  message  from  mother.  She  says  if  you  ever  want 
to  get  that  winter  view  of  Lion's  Head,  now's  your 
time.  She  wants  you  to  come  up  there ;  she  and  Cyn 
thia  both.  do.  They  can  make  you  as  comfortable  as 
you  please,  and  they'd  like  to  have  a  visit  from  you. 
Can't  you  go  ?  " 

Westover  shook  his  head  ruefully.  "  It's  good  of 
them,  and  I  want  you  to  thank  them  for  me.  But  I 
don't  know  when  I'm  going  to  get  out  again." 


280  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD, 

"  Oh,  you'll  soon  get  out,"  said  Jeff.  "  I'm  going 
to  look  after  you  a  little,"  and  this  time  Westover 
was  too  weak  to  protest.  He  did  not  forbid  Jeff's 
taking  off  his  overcoat ;  he  suffered  him  to  light  his 
spirit-lamp  and  make  a  punch  of  the  whiskey  which 
he  owned  the  doctor  was  giving  him ;  and  when  Jeff 
handed  him  the  steaming  glass,  and  asked  him, 
"  How's  that  ? "  he  answered  with  a  pleasure  in  it 
which  he  knew  to  be  deplorable,  "  It's  fine." 

Jeff  stayed  the  whole  evening  with  him,  and  made 
him  more  comfortable  than  he  had  been  since  his  cold 
began.  Westover  now  talked  seriously  and  frankly  with 
him,  but  no  longer  so  harshly,  and  in  his  -relenting  he 
felt  a  return  of  his  old  illogical  liking  for  him.  He 
fancied  in  Durgin's  kindness  to  himself  an  indirect 
regret,  and  a  desire  to  atone  for  what  he  had  done, 
and  he  said  :  "  The  effect  is  in  you — the  worst  effect. 
I  don't  think  either  of  the  young  Lyndes  very  exem 
plary  people.  But  you'd  be  doing  yourself  a  greater 
wrong  than  you've  done  them  if  you  didn't  recognize 
that  you  had  been  guilty  towards  them." 

Jeff  seemed  struck  by  this  notion.  "  What  do  you 
want  me  to  do  ?  What  can  I  do  ?  Chase  myself  out 
of  society  ?  Something  like  that  ?  I'm  willing.  It's 
too  easy,  though.  As  I  said,  I've  never  been  wanted 
much,  there,  and  I  shouldn't  be  missed." 

"  Well,  then,  how  would  you  like  to  leave  it  to  the 
people  at  Lion's  Head  to  say  what  you  should  do  ?  " 
Westover  suggested. 

"  I  shouldn't  like  it,"  said  Jeff,  promptly.  "  They'd 
judge  it  as  you  do — as  if  they'd  done  it  themselves. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  281 

That's  the  reason  women  are  not  fit  to  judge."  His 
gay  face  darkened.  "  But  tell  'em  if  you  want  to." 

"  Bah  !  "  cried  the  painter.  "  Why  should  I  want 
to  ?  I'm  not  a  woman  in  everything." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Westover.  I  didn't  mean 
that.  I  only  meant  that  you're  an  idealist.  I  look  at 
this  thing  as  if  some  one  else  had  done  it ;  I  believe 
that's  the  practical  way ;  and  I  shouldn't  go  in  for 
punishing  any  one  else  for  such  a  thing  very  severely." 
He  made  another  punch — for  himself  this  time,  he 
said;  but  Westover  joined  him  in  a  glass  of  it. 

"  It  won't  do  to  take  that  view  of  your  faults,  Jeff," 
he  said,  gravely. 

"  What's  the  reason  ? "  Jeff  demanded ;  and  now 
either  the  punch  had  begun  to  work  in  WTestover's 
brain,  or  some  other  influence  of  like  force  and  quality. 
He  perceived  that  in  this  earth-bound  temperament 
was  the  potentiality  of  all  the  success  it  aimed  at. 
The  acceptance  of  the  moral  fact  as  it  was,  without 
the  unconscious  effort  to  better  it,  or  to  hold  himself 
strictly  to  account  for  it,  was  the  secret  of  the  power 
in  the  man  which  would  bring  about  the  material  re 
sults  he  desired ;  and  this  simplicity  of  the  motive 
involved  had  its  charm.  Westover  was  aware  of  liking 
Durgin  at  that  moment  much  more  than  he  ought,  and 
of  liking  him  helplessly.  In  the  light  of  his  good- 
natured  selfishness,  the  injury  to  the  Lyndes  showed 
much  less  a  sacrilege  than  it  had  seemed ;  Westover 
began  to  see  it  with  Jeff's  eyes,  and  to  see  it  with 
reference  to  what  might  be  low  and  mean  in  them, 
instead  of  what  might  be  fine  and  high. 


282  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

He  was  sensible  of  the  growth  Jeff  had  made  intel 
lectually.  He  had  not  been  at  Harvard  nearly  four 
years  for  nothing.  He  had  phrases  and  could  handle 
them.  In  whatever  obscure  or  perverse  fashion,  he 
had  profited  by  his  opportunities.  The  fellow  who 
could  accuse  him  of  being  an  idealist,  and  could  in 
some  sort  prove  it,  was  no  longer  a  naughty  boy  to  be 
tutored  and  punished.  The  revolt  latent  in  him  would 
be  violent  in  proportion  to  the  pressure  put  upon  him, 
and  Westover  began  to  be  without  the  wish  to  press 
his  fault  home  to  him  so  strongly.  In  the  optimism 
generated  by  the  punch,  he  felt  that  he  might  leave 
the  case  to  Jeff  himself ;  or  else  in  the  comfort  we  all 
experience  in  sinking  to  a  lower  level,  he  was  unwilling 
to  make  the  effort  to  keep  his  own  moral  elevation. 
But  he  did  make  an  effort  to  save  himself  by  saying : 
"  You  can't  get  what  you've  done  before  yourself  as 
you  can  the  action  of  some  one  else.  It's  part  of  you, 
and  you  have  to  judge  the  motive  as  well  as  the 
effect," 

"Well,  that's  what  I'm  doing,"  said  Jeff;  "but  it 
seems  to  me  that  you're  trying  to  have  me  judge  of 
the  effect  from  a  motive  I  didn't  have.  As  far  as  I 
can  make  out,  I  hadn't  any  motive  at  all. 

He  laughed,  and  all  that  Westover  could  say  was, 
"  Then  you're  still  responsible  for  the  result."  But 
this  no  longer  appeared  so  true  to  him. 


XXXVIII. 

IT  was  not  a  condition  of  Westover's  welcome  at 
Lion's  Head  that  lie  should  seem  peculiarly  the  friend 
of  Jeff  Durgin,  but  he  could  not  help  making  it  so, 
and  he  began  to  overact  the  part  as  soon  as  he  met 
Jeff's  mother.  He  had  to  speak  of  him  in  thanking 
her  for  remembering  his  wish  to  paint  Lion's  Head  in 
the  winter,  and  he  had  to  tell  her  of  Jeff's  thoughtful- 
ness  during  the  past  fortnight ;  he  had  to  say  that  he 
did  not  believe  he  should  ever  have  got  away  if  it  had 
not  been  for  him.  This  was  true ;  Durgin  had  even 
come  in  from  Cambridge  to  see  him  off  on  the  train ; 
he  behaved  as  if  the  incident  with  Lynde  and  all  their 
talk  about  it  had  cemented  the  friendship  between 
Westover  and  himself,  and  he  could  not  be  too  de 
voted.  It  now  came  out  that  he  had  written  home  all 
about  Westover,  and  made  his  mother  put  up  a  stove 
in  the  painter's  old  room,  so  that  he  should  have  the 
instant  use  of  it  when  he  arrived. 

It  was  an  air-tight  wood-stove,  and  it  filled  the 
chamber  with  a  heat  in  which  Westover  drowsed  as 
soon  as  he  entered  it.  He  threw  himself  on  the  bed, 
and  slept  away  the  fatigue  of  his  railroad  journey  and 


284:  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

the  cold  of  his  drive  with  Jombateeste  from  the  sta 
tion.  His  nap  was  long,  and  he  woke  from  it  in  a 
pleasant  languor,  with  the  dream-clouds  still  hanging 
in  his  brain.  He  opened  the  damper  of  his  stove,  and 
set  it  roaring  again ;  then  he  pulled  down  the  upper 
sash  of  his  window  and  looked  out  on  a  world  whose 
elements  of  wood  and  snow  and  stone  he  tried  to  co 
ordinate.  There  was  nothing  else  in  that  world  but 
these  things,  so  repellent  of  one  another.  He  suffered 
from  the  incongruity  of  the  wooden  bulk  of  the  hotel, 
with  the  white  drifts  deep  about  it,  and  with  the  gran 
ite  cliffs  of  Lion's  Head  before  it,  where  the  gray  crags 
darkened  under  the  pink  afternoon  light  which  was 
beginning  to  play  upon  its  crest  from  the  early  sunset. 
The  wind  that  had  seemed  to  bore  through  his  thick 
cap  and  his  skull  itself,  arid  that  had  tossed  the  dry 
snow  like  dust  against  his  eyes  on  his  way  from  the 
railroad,  had  now  fallen,  and  an  incomparable  quiet 
wrapped  the  solitude  of  the  hills.  A  teasing  sense  of 
the  impossibility  of  the  scene,  as  far  as  his  art  was 
concerned,  rilled  him  full  of  a  fond  despair  of  render 
ing  its  feeling.  He  could  give  its  light  and  color  and 
form  in  a  sufficiently  vivid  suggestion  of  the  fact,  but 
he  could  not  make  that  pink  flush  seem  to  exhale,  like 
a  long  breath,  upon  those  rugged  shapes;  he  could 
not  impart  that  sentiment  of  delicacy,  almost  of  ele 
gance  which  he  found  in  the  wilderness,  while  every 
detail  of  civilization  physically  distressed  him.  In 
one  place  the  snow  had  been  dug  down  to  the  pine 
planking  of  the  pathway  round  the  house  ;  and  the 
contact  of  this  woodenness  with  the  frozen  ground 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  285 

pierced  his  nerves  and  set  his  teeth  on  edge  like  a 
harsli  noise.  When  once  he  saw  it  he  had  to  make 
an  effort  to  take  his  eyes  from  it,  and  in  a  sort  un 
known  to  him  in  summer  he  perceived  the  offence  of 
the  hotel  itself  amidst  the  pure  and  lonely  beauty  of 
the  winter  landscape.  It  was  a  note  of  intolerable 
banality,  of  philistine  pretence  and  vulgar  convention, 
such  as  Whitwell's  low,  unpainted  cottage  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill  did  not  give,  nor  the  little  red  school-house, 
on  the  other  hand,  showing  through  the  naked  trees. 
There  should  have  been  really  no  human  habitation 
visible  except  a  wigwam  in  the  shelter  of  the  pines, 
here  and  there ;  and  when  he  saw  Whitwell  making 
his  way  up  the  hill-side  road,  Westover  felt  that  if 
there  must  be  any  human  presence  it  should  be  some 
savage  clad  in  skins,  instead  of  the  philosopher  in  his 
rubber  boots  and  his  clothing-store  ulster.  He  pre 
ferred  the  small,  wiry  shape  of  Jombateeste,  in  his 
blue  woollen  cap,  and  his  Canadian  foot-gear,  as  he 
ran  round  the  corner  of  the  house  towards  the  barn, 
and  left  the  breath  of  his  pipe  in  the  fine  air  behind 
him. 

The  light  began  to  deepen  from  the  pale  pink  to  a 
crimson  which  stained  the  tops  and  steeps  of  snow, 
and  deepened  the  dark  of  the  woods  massed  on  the 
mountain  slopes  between  the  irregular  fields  of  white. 
The  burnished  brown  of  the  hard-wood  trees,  the  dull 
carbon  shadows  of  the  evergreens,  seemed  to  wither 
to  one  black  as  the  red  strengthened  in  the  sky. 
Westover  realized  that  he  had  lost  the  best  of  any 
possible  picture  in  letting  that  first  delicate  color 


286  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S  .HEAD. 

escape  him.  This  crimson  was  harsh  and  vulgar  in 
comparison ;  it  would  have  almost  a  chromo  quality ; 
he  censured  his  pleasure  in  it  as  something  gross  and 
material,  like  that  of  eating;  and  on  a  sudden  he  felt 
hungry.  He  wondered  what  time  they  would  give 
him  supper,  and  he  took  slight  account  of  the  fact 
that  a  caprice  of  the  wind  had  torn  its  hood  of  snows 
from  the  mountain  summit,  and  that  the  profile  of  the 
Lion's  Head  showed  almost  as  distinctly  as  in  sum 
mer.  He  stood  before  the  picture  which  for  that  day 
at  least  was  lost  to  him,  and  questioned  whether  there 
would  be  a  hearty  meal,  something  like  a  dinner,  or 
whether  there  would  be  something  like  a  farm-house 
supper,  mainly  of  doughnuts  and  tea. 

He  pulled  up  his  window  and  was  going  to  lie  down 
again,  when  some  one  knocked,  and  Frank  "Whitwell 
stood  at  the  door.  "  Do  you  want  we  should  bring 
your  supper  to  you  here,  Mr.  "Westover,  or  will  you — " 

"  Oh,  let  me  join  you  all !  "  cried  the  painter  eagerly. 
"Is  it  ready — shall  I  come  now  ?  " 

"  Well,  in  about  five  minutes,  or  so."  Frank  went 
away,  after  setting  down  in  the  room  the  lamp  he  had 
brought.  It  was  a  lamp  which  Westover  thought  he 
remembered  from  the  farm-house  period,  and  on  his 
way  down  he  realized  as  he  had  somehow  not  done  in 
his  summer  sojourns,  the  entirety  of  the  old  house  in 
the  hotel  which  had  encompassed  it.  The  primitive 
cold  of  its  stairways  and  passages  struck  upon  him  as 
soon  as  he  left  his  own  room,  and  he  found  the  parlor 
door  closed  against  the  chill.  There  was  a  hot  stove- 
fire  within,  and  a  kerosene-lamp  turned  low,  but  there 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  287 

was  no  one  there,  arid  lie  had  the  photograph  of  his 
first  picture  of  Lion's  Head  to  himself  in  the  dim 
light.  The  voice^  of  Mrs.  Durgin  and  Cynthia  came 
to  him  from  the  dining-room,  and  from  the  kitchen 
beyond,  with  the  occasional  clash  of  crockery,  and 
the  clang  of  iron  upon  iron  about  the  stove,  and  the 
quick  tread  of  women's  feet  upon  the  bare  floor. 
With  these  pleasant  noises  came  the  smell  of  cooking, 
and  later  there  was  an  opening  and  shutting  of  doors, 
with  a  thrill  of  the  freezing  air  from  without,  and  the 
dull  thumping  of  WhitwelFs  rubber  boots,  and  the 
quicker  flapping  of  Jombateeste's  soft  leathern  soles. 
Then  there  was  the  sweep  of  skirted  feet  at  the  parlor 
door,  and  Cynthia  Whitwell  came  in  without  perceiv 
ing  him.  She  went  to  the  table  by  the  darkening 
window,  and  quickly  turned  up  the  light  of  the  lamp. 
In  her  ignorance  of  his  presence,  he  saw  her  as  if  she 
had  been  alone,  almost  as  if  she  were  out  of  the  body  ; 
he  received  from  her  unconsciousness  the  impression 
of  something  rarely  pure  and  fine,  and  he  had  a  sud 
den  compassion  for  her,  as  for  something  precious  that 
is  fated  to  be  wasted  or  misprized.  At  a  little  move 
ment  which  he  made  to  relieve  himself  from  a  sense 
of  eavesdropping,  she  gave  a  start,  and  shut  her  lips 
upon  the  little  cry  that  would  have  escaped  from  an 
other  sort  of  woman. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  here,77  she  said ;  and  she 
flushed  with  the  shyness  of  him  which  she  always 
showed  at  first.  She  had  met  him  already  with  the 
rest,  but  they  had  scarcely  spoken  together ;  and  he 
knew  of  the  struggle  she  must  now  be  making  with 


288  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

herself  when  she  went  on :  "I  didn't  know  you  had 
been  called.     I  thought  you  were  still  sleeping." 

"  Yes.  I  seemed  to  sleep  for  centuries,"  said  West- 
over,  "  and  I  woke  up  feeling  coeval  with  Lion's 
Head.  But  I  hope  to  grow  younger  again." 

She  faltered,  and  then  she  asked,  "  Did  you  see  the 
light  on  it  when' the  sun  went  down?" 

"  I  wish  I  hadn't.  1  could  never  get  that  light — 
even  if  it  ever  came  again." 

"  It's  there  every  afternoon,  when  it's  clear." 
".I'm  sorry  for  that;   I  shall    have  to  try  for  it, 
then." 

"Wasn't  that  what  you  came  for?"  she  asked,  by 
one  of  the  efforts  she  was  making  with  everything  she 
said.  He  could  have  believed  he  saw  the  pulse  throb 
bing  in  her  neck.  But  she  held  herself  stone-still, 
and  he  divined  her  resolution  to  conquer  herself,  if 
she  should  die  for  it. 

"  Yes,  I  came  for  that,"  said  West  over.  "  That's 
what  makes  it  so  dismaying.  If  I  had  only  happened 
on  it,  I  shouldn't  have  been  responsible  for  the  failure 
I  shall  make  of  it." 

She  smiled,  as  if  she  liked  his  lightness,  but 
doubted  if  she  ought.  "We  don't  often  get  Lion's 
Head  clear  of  snow." 

"  Yes  ;  that's  another  hardship,"  said  the  painter. 
"  Everything  is  against  me  !  If  we  don't  have  a  snow 
overnight,  and  a  cloudy  day  to-morrow,  I  shall  be  in 
despair." 

She  played  with  the  little  wheel  of  the  wick ;  she 
looked  down,  and  then,  with  a  glance  flashed  at  him, 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD,  289 

she  gasped,  "  I  shall  have  to  take  your  lamp  for  the 
table — tea  is  ready." 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  will  only  take  me  with  it.  I'm 
frightfully  hungry." 

Apparently  she  could  not  say  anything  to  that.  He 
tried  to  get  the  lamp  to  carry  it  out  for  her,  but  she 
would  not  let  him.  "  It  isn't  heavy,"  she  said,  and 
hurried  out  before  him. 

It  was  all  nothing,  but  it  was  all  very  charming,  and 
Westover  was  richly  content  with  it ;  and  yet  not  con 
tent,  for  he  felt  that  the  pleasure  of  it  was  not  truly 
his,  but  was  a  moment  of  merely  borrowed  happiness. 

The  table  was  laid  in  the  old  farm-house  sitting- 
room  where  he  had  been  served  alone  when  he  first 
came  to  Lion's  Head.  But  now  he  sat  down  with  the 
whole  family,  even  to  Jombateeste,  who  brought  in  a 
faint  odor  of  the  barn  with  him. 

They  had  each  been  in  contact  with  the  finer  world 
which  revisits  nature  in  the  summer-time,  and  they 
must  all  have  known  something  of  its  usages,  but  they 
had  reverted  in  form  and  substance  to  the  rustic  living 
of  their  neighbors.  They  had  steak  for  Westover, 
and  baked  potatoes ;  but  for  themselves  they  had  such 
farm  fare  as  Mrs.  Durgin  had  given  him  the  first  time 
he  supped  there.  They  made  their  meal  chiefly  of 
doughnuts  and  tea,  and  hot  biscuit,  with  some  sweet 
dishes  of  a  festive  sort  added  in  recognition  of  his 
presence  ;  and  there  was  mince-pie  for  all.  Mrs.  Dur 
gin  and  Whitwell  ate  with  their  knives,  and  Jomba 
teeste  filled  himself  so  soon  with  every  implement  at 
hand  that  he  was  able  to  ask  excuse  of  the  others  if  he 
S 


290  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

left  them  for  the  horses  before  they  had  half  finished. 
Frank  Whitwell  fed  with  a  kind  of  official  or  func 
tional  conformity  to  the  ways  of  summer  folks  ;  but 
Cynthia,  at  whom  Westover  glanced  with  anxiety,  only 
drank  some  tea  and  ate  a  little  bread-and-butter.  He 
was  ashamed  of  his  anxiety,  for  he  had  owned  that  it 
ought  not  to  have  mattered  if  she  had  used  her  knife 
like  her  father ;  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had 
prompted  Mrs.  Durgin  by  his  curious  glance  to  say : 
"  We  don't  know  half  the  time  how  the  child  lives. 
Cynthy  !  Take  something  to  eat !  " 

Cynthia  pleaded  that  she  was  not  hungry;  Mrs. 
Durgin  declared  that  she  would  die  if  she  kept  on 
as  she  was  going;  and  then  the  girl  escaped  to  the 
kitchen  on  one  of  the  errands  which  she  made  from 
time  to  time  between  the  stove  and  the  table. 

"I  presume  it's  your  coming,  Mr.  Westover," 
Mrs.  Durgin  went  on,  with  the  comfortable  superi 
ority  of  elderly  people  to  all  the  trials  of  the  young. 
"  I  don't  know  why  she  should  make  a  stranger  of 
you,  every  time.  You've  known  her  pretty  much  all 
her  life." 

"  Ever  since  you  give  Jeff  what  he  deserved  for 
scaring  her  and  Frank  here  with  his  dog,"  said  Whit- 
well. 

"  Poor  Fox  !  "  Mrs.  Durgin  sighed.  "  He  did  have 
the  least  sense  for  a  dog  I  ever  saw.  And  Jeff  used 
to  be  so  fond  of  him  !  Well,  I  guess  he  got  tired  of 
him,  too,  towards  the  last." 

"  He's  gone  to  the  happy  hunting-grounds  now. 
Colorady  didn't  agree  with  him — or  old  age,"  said 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  291 

Whitwcll.  "  I  don't  see  why  the  Injuns  wa'n't  right," 
he  pursued,  thoughtfully.  "  If  they've  got  souls,  why 
ha'n't  their  dogs?  I  suppose  Mr.  Westover  here 
would  say  there  wa'n't  any  certainty  about  the  Injuns 
themselves ! " 

"  You  know  my  weak  point,  Mr.  Whitwell,"  the 
painter  confessed.  "  But  I  can' 't  prove  they  haven't." 

"  Nor  dogs,  neither,  I  guess,"  said  Whitwell,  tol 
erantly.  "  It's  curious,  though,  if  animals  have  got 
souls,  that  we  ha'n't  ever  had  any  communications 
from  'em.  You  might  say  that  ag'in  the  idea." 

"  No,  I'll  let  you  say  it,"  returned  Westover. 
"  But  a  good  many  of  the  communications  seem  to 
come  from  the  lower  intelligences,  if  not  the  lower 
animals." 

Whitwell  laughed  out  his  delight  in  the  thrust. 
"  Well,  I  guess  that's  something  so.  And  them  old 
Egyptian  devils,  over  there,  that  you  say  discovered 
the  doctrine  of  immortality,  seemed  to  think  a  cat  was 
about  as  good  as  a  man.  What's  that,"  he  appealed 
to  Mrs.  Durgin,  "  Jackson  said  in  his  last  letter  about 
their  cat  mummies  ? " 

"Well,  I  guess  I'll  finish  my  supper  first,"  said 
Mrs.  Durgin,  whose  nerves  Westover  would  not  other 
wise  have  suspected  of  faintness.  "  But  Jackson's 
letters,"  she  continued,  loyally,  "  are  about  the  best 
letters  ! " 

"  Know  they'd  got  some  of  'em  in  the  papers  ? " 
Whitwell  asked ;  and  at  the  surprise  that  Westover 
showed  he  told  him  how  a  fellow  who  was  trying  to 
make  a  paper  go  over  at  the  Huddle,  had  heard  of 


292  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

Jackson's  letters  and  teased  for  some  of  them,  and 
had  printed  them  as  neighborhood  news  in  that  side 
of  his  paper  which  he  did  not  buy  ready  printed  in 
Boston. 

Mrs.  Durgin  studied  with  modest  deprecation  the 
effect  of  the  fact  upon  Westover,  and  seemed  satisfied 
with  it.  "  Well,  of  course,  it's  interestin'  to  Jack 
son's  old  friends  in  the  country,  here.  They  know 
he'd  look  at  things,  over  there,  pretty  much  as  they 
would.  Well,  I  had  to  lend  the  letters  round,  so 
much,  anyway,  it  was  a  kind  of  a  relief  to  have  'em 
in  the  paper,  where  everybody  could  see  'em,  and  be 
done  with  it.  Mr.  Whit'ell  here,  he  fixes  'em  up  so's 
to  leave  out  the  family  part,  and  I  guess  they're  pretty 
well  thought  of." 

Westover  said  he  had  no  doubt  they  were,  and  he 
should  want  to  see  all  the  letters  they  could  show  him, 
in  print  and  out  of  print. 

"If  Jackson  only  had  Jeff's  health  and  opportu 
nities — "  the  mother  began,  with  a  suppressed  passion 
in  her  regret. 

Frank  Whit  well  pushed  back  his  chair.  "  I  guess 
I'll  ask  to  be  excused,"  he  said  to  the  head  of  table. 

"  There  !  I  a'n't  goin'  to  say  any  more  about  that, 
if  that's  what  you're  afraid  of,  Frank,"  said  Mrs. 
Durgin.  "  Well,  I  presume  I  do  talk  a  good  deal 
about  Jackson  when  I  get  goin',  and  I  presume  it's 
natural  Cynthy  shouldn't  want  I  should  talk  about  Jeff 
before  folks.  Frank,  a'n't  you  goin'  to  wait  for  that 
plate  of  hot  biscuit  ? — if  she  ever  gits  it  here  !  " 

"  I  guess  I  don't  care    for  anything  more,"  said 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  293 

Frank,  and  he  got  himself  out  of  the  room  more  in 
articulately  than  he  need,  "Westover  thought. 

His  father  followed  his  retreat  with  an  eye  of  hu 
morous  intelligence.  "  I  guess  Frank  don't  want  to 
keep  the  young  ladies  waitin'  a  great  while.  There's 
a  church  sociable  over  't  the  Huddle,"  he  explained 
to  Westover. 

"  Oh,  that's  itj  is  it  ? "  Mrs.  Durgin  put  in.  "  Why 
didn't  he  say  so  ?  " 

"  Well,  the  young  .folks  don't  any  of  'em  seem  to 
want  to  talk  about  such  things  nowadays,  and  I  don't 
know  as  they  ever  did."  Whitwell  took  Westover 
into  his  confidence  with  a  wink. 

The  biscuit  that  Cynthia  brought  in  were  burned  a 
little  on  top,  and  Mrs.  Durgin  recognized  the  fact  with 
the  question,  "  Did  you  get  to  studyin',  out  there  ? 
Take  one,  do,  Mr.  Westover  !  You  ha'n't  made  half 
a  meal!  If  I  didn't  keep  round  after  her,  I  don't 
know  what  would  become  of  us  all.  The  young  ladies 
down  at  Boston,  any  of  'em,  try  to  keep  up  with  the 
fellows  in  college  ? " 

"  I  suppose  they  do  in  the  Harvard  Annex,"  said 
Westover,  simply,  in  spite  of  the  glance  with  which 
Mrs.  Durgin  tried  to  convey  a  covert  meaning.  He 
understood  it  afterwards,  but  for  the  present  his  sin- 
gle-mindedness  spared  the  girl. 

She  remained  to  clear  away  the  table,  when  the 
rest  left  it,  and  Westover  followed  Mrs.  Durgin  into 
the  parlor,  where  she  indemnified  herself  for  refrain 
ing  from  any  explicit  allusion  to  Jeff  before  Cynthia. 
"  The  boy,"  she  explained,  when  she  had  made  him 


294  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

ransack  his  memory  for  every  scrap  of  fact  concerning 
her  son,  "  don't  hardly  ever  write  to  me,  and  I  guess 
he  don't  give  Cynthy  very  much  news.  I  presume 
he's  workin'  harder  than  ever  this  year.  And  I'm  glad 
he's  goin'  about  a  little,  from  what  you  say.  I  guess 
he's  got  to  feelin'  a  little  better.  It  did  worry  me  for 
him  to  feel  so  what  you  may  call  meechin'  about  folks. 
You  see  anything  that  made  you  think  he  wa'n't  ap 
preciated  ? " 

After  Westover  got  back  into  his  own  room,  some 
one  knocked  at  his  door,  and  he  found  Whitwell  out 
side.  He  scarcely  asked  him  to  come  in,  but  Whit- 
well  scarcely  needed  the  invitation.  "  Got  everything 
you  want  ?  I  told  Cynthy  I'd  come  up  and  see  after 
you ;  Frank  won't  be  back  in  time."  He  sat  down  and 
put  his  feet  on  top  of  the  stove,  and  struck  the  heels 
of  his  boots  on  its  edge,  from  the  habit  of  knocking 
the  caked  snow  off  them  in  that  way  on  stove-tops. 
He  did  not  wait  to  find  out  that  there  was  no  respon 
sive  sizzling  before  he  asked,  with  a  long  nasal  sigh, 
"  Well,  how  is  Jeff  gettin'  along  ?  " 

He  looked  across  at  Westover,  who  had  provision 
ally  seated  himself  on  his  bed. 

"  Why,  in  the  old  way."  Whitwell  kept  his  eye 
on  him,  and  he  added,  "  I  suppose  we  don't  any  of  us 
change ;  we  develop." 

Whitwell  smiled  with  pleasure  in  the  loosely  philo 
sophic  suggestion.  "  You  mean  that  he's  the  same 
kind  of  a  man  that  he  was  a  boy  ?  Well,  I  guess 
that's  so.  The  question  is,  what  kind  of  a  boy  was 
he  ?  I've  been  mullin'  over  that  consid'able  since 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  295 

Cynthy  and  him  fixed  it  up  together.  Of  course,  I 
know  it's  their  business,  and  all  that;  but  I  presume 
I've  got  a  right  to  spec'late  about  it  ? " 

He  referred  the  point  to  Westover,  who  knew  an 
inner  earnestness  in  it,  in  spite  of  Whitwell's  habit  of 
outside  jocosity.  "  Every  right  in  the  world,  I  should 
say,  Mr.  Whitwell,"  he  answered,  seriously. 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  you  feel  that  way,"  said  Whitwell, 
with  a  little  apparent  surprise.  "  I  don't  want  to 
meddle,  any ;  but  I  know  what  Cynthy  is — I  no  need 
to  brag  her  up — and  I  don't  feel  so  over  and  above 
certain  't  I  know  what  he  is.  He's  a  good  deal  of  a 
mixture,  if  you  want  to  know  how  he  strikes  me.  I 
don't  mean  I  don't  like  him ;  I  do ;  the  fellow's  got  a 
way  with  him  that  makes  me  kind  of  like  him  when 
I  see  him.  He's  good-natured  and  clever;  and  he's 
willin'  to  take  any  amount  of  trouble  for  you ;  but  you 
can't  tell  where  to  have  him."  Westover  denied  the 
appeal  for  explicit  assent  in  Whitwell's  eye,  and  he 
went  on :  "  If  I'd  done  that  fellow  a  good  turn,  in 
spite  of  him,  or  if  I'd  held  him  up  to  something  that 
he  allowed  was  right,  and  consented  to,  I  should  want 
to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  that  he  didn't  play  me  some 
ugly  trick  for  it.  He's  a  comical  devil,"  Whitwell 
ended,  rather  inadequately.  "How  d's  it  look  to 
you  ?  Seen  anything  lately  that  seemed  to  tally  with 
my  idee  ? " 

"No,  no ;  I  can't  say  that  I  have,"  said  Westover, 
reluctantly.  He  wished  to  be  franker  than  he  now 
meant  to  be,  but  he  consulted  a  scruple  that  he  did 
not  wholly  respect ;  a  mere  convention  it  seemed  to 


296  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

him,  presently.  He  said :  "  I've  always  felt  that 
charm  in  him,  too,  and  I've  seen  the  other  traits, 
though  not  so  clearly  as  you  seem  to  have  done.  He 
has  a  powerful  will,  yes — " 

He  stopped,  and  Whitwell  asked,  "  Been  up  to  any 
deviltry  lately  ? " 

"  I  can't  say  he  has.  Nothing  that  I  can  call  inten 
tional." 

"  No,"  said  Whitwell.    "  What's  he  done,  though  ?  " 

"  Really,  Mr.  Wlritwell,  I  don't  know  that  you  have 
any  right  to  expect  me  to  talk  him  over,  when  I'm 
here  as  his  mother's  guest — his  own  guest — " 

"No.  /  ha'n't,"  said  Whitwell.  "What  about 
the  father  of  the  girl  he's  goin'  to  marry  ? " 

Westover  could  not  deny  the  force  of  this.  "  You'd 
be  anxious  if  I  didn't  tell  you  what  I  had  in  mind,  I 
dare  say,  more  than  if  I  did."  He  told  him  of  Jeff's 
behavior  with  Alan  Lynde,  and  of  his  talk  with  him 
about  it.  "And  I  think  he  was  honest.  It  was  some 
thing  that  happened,  that  wasn't  meant." 

Whitwell  did  not  assent  directly,  somewhat  to 
Westover's  surprise.  He  asked,  "  Fellow  ever  done 
anything  to  Jeff  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  I  don't  know  that  they  ever 
met  before." 

Whitwell  kicked  his  heels  on  the  edge  of  the  stove 
again.  "Then  it  might  been  an  accident,"  he  said, 
dryly. 

WTestover  had  to  break  the  silence  that  followed, 
and  he  found  himself  defending  Jeff,  though  somehow 
not  for  Jeff's  sake.  He  urged  that  if  he  had  the 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  297 

strong  will  they  both  recognized  in  him,  he  would 
never  commit  the  errors  of  a  weak  man,  which  were 
usually  the  basest. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  a  strong-willed  man  a'n't  a 
weak  one  ? "  Whitwell  astonished  him  by  asking. 
"  A'n't  what  we  call  a  strong  will  just  a  kind  of  a  bull 
dog  clinch  that  the  dog  himself  can't  unloose  ?  I  take 
it  a  man  that  has  a  good  will  is  a  strong  man.  If  Jeff 
done  a  right  thing  against  his  wHl,  he  wouldn't  rest 
easy  till  he'd  showed  that  he  wa'n't  obliged  to,  by 
some  mischief  worse  'n  what  he  was  kept  out  of.  I 
tell  you,  Mr.  Westover,  if  I'd  made  that  fellow  toe 
the  mark  anyway,  I'd  be  afraid  of  him."  Whitwell 
looked  at  Westover  with  eyes  of  significance,  if  not 
of  confidence.  Then  he  rose  with  a  prolonged 
"  M-wel-1-1 !  We're  all  born,  but  we  a'n't  all  buried. 
This  world  is  a  queer  place.  But  I  guess  Jeff '11  come 
out  right  in  the  end." 

W^estover  said,  "  I'm  sure  he  will !  "  and  he  shook 
hands  warmly  with  the  father  of  the  girl  Jeff  was  go 
ing  to  marry. 

'  Whitwell  came  back,  after  he  had  got  some  paces 
away,  and  said,  "Of  course,  this  is  between  you  and 
me,  Mr.  Westover." 

"  Of  course  !  " 

"I  don't  mean  Mis'  Durgin.  I  shouldn't  care  what 
she  thought  of  my  talkin'  him  over  with  you.  I  don't 
know,"  he  continued,  putting  up  his  hand  against  the 
door-frame,  to  give  himself  the  comfort  of  its  support 
while  he  talked,  "  as  you  understood  what  she  meant 
by*  the  young  ladies  at  Boston  keepin'  up  with  the 


298  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

fellows  in  college.  Well,  that's  what  Cynthy's  doin' 
with  Jeff,  right  along ;  and  if  he  ever  works  off  them 
conditions  of  his,  and  gits  his  degree,  it'll  be  because 
she  helped  him  to.  I  tell  you,  there's  more  than  one 
kind  of  telepathy  in  this  world,  Mr.  Westover.  That's 
all." 


XXXIX. 

WESTOVER  understood  from  Whitwell's  after 
thought  that  it  was  Cynthia  he  was  anxious  to  keep 
ignorant  of  his  misgiving,  if  they  were  so  much  as 
misgivings.  But  the  importance  of  this  fact  could 
not  stay  him  against  the  tide  of  sleep  which  was  bear 
ing  him  down.  When  his  head  touched  the  pillow  it 
swept  over  him,  and  he  rose  from  it  in  the  morning 
with  a  gayety  of  heart  which  he  knew  to  be  returning 
health.  He  jumped  out  of  bed,  and  stuffed  some 
shavings  into  his  stove  from  the  wood-box  beside  it, 
and  laid  some  logs  on  them ;  he  slid  the  damper  open, 
and  then  lay  down  again,  listening  to  the  fire  that 
showed  its  red  teeth  through  the  slats  and  roared  and 
laughed  to  the  day  which  sparkled  on  the  white  world 
without.  When  he  got  out  of  bed  a  second  time,  he 
found  the  room  so  hot  that  he  had  to  pull  down  his 
window-sash,  and  he  dressed  in  a  temperature  of 
twenty  degrees  below  zero  without  knowing  that  the 
dry  air  was  more  than  fresh.  Mrs.  Durgin  called  to 
him  through  the  open  door  of  her  parlor,  as  he  entered 
the  dining-room  :  "  Cynthy  will  give  you  your  break 
fast,  Mr.  Westover.  We're  all  done  long  ago,  and  I'm 


300  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

busy  in  here,"  and  the  girl  appeared  with  the  coffee 
pot  and  the  dishes  she  had  been  keeping  hot  for  him 
at  the  kitchen  stove.  She  seemed  to  be  going  to  leave 
him  when  she  had  put  them  down  before  him,  but 
she  faltered,  and  then  she  asked,  "  Do  you  want  I 
should  pour  your  coffee  for  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  Do !  "  he  begged,  and  she  sat  down 
across  the  table  from  him.  "  I'm  ashamed  to  make 
this  trouble  for  you,"  he  added.  "  I  didn't  know  it 
was  so  late." 

"Oh,  we  have  the  whole  day  fur  our  work,"  she 
answered,  tolerantly. 

He  laughed,  and  said :  "  How  strange  that  seems ! 
I  suppose  I  shall  get  used  to  it.  But  in  town  we  seem 
never  to  have  a  whole  day  for  a  day's  work;  we  always 
have  to  do  part  of  it  at  night,  or  the  next  morning. 
Do  you  ever  have  a  day  here  that's  too  large  a  size 
for  its  work  ?  " 

"  You  can  nearly  always  find  something  to  do  about 
a  house,"  she  returned,  evasively.  "But  the  time 
doesn't  go  the  way  it  does  in  the  summer." 

"  Oh,  I  know  how  the  country  is  in  the  winter,"  he 
said.  "  I  was  brought  up  in  the  country." 

"  I  didn't  know  that,"  she  said,  and  she  gave  him 
a  stare  of  surprise  before  her  eyes  fell. 

"  Yes.  Out  in  Wisconsin.  My  people  were  emi 
grants,  and  I  lived  in  the  woods,  there,  till  I  began  to 
paint  my  way  out.  I  began  pretty  early,  but  I  was 
in  the  woods  till  I  was  sixteen." 

"  I  didn't  know  that,"  she  repeated.  "  I  always 
thought  that  you  were — " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  301 

"  Summer  folks,  like  the  rest  ?  No,  I'm  all-the- 
year-round  folks  originally.  But  I  haven't  been  in 
the  country  in  the  winter  since  I  was  a  boy,  and  it's 
all  been  coming  back  to  me,  here,  like  some  one  else's 
experience." 

She  did  not  say  anything,  but  the  interest  in  her 
eyes,  which  she  could  not  keep  from  his  face  now, 
prompted  him  to  go  on. 

"  You  can  make  a  beginning  in  the  West  easier 
than  you  can  in  the  East,  and  some  people  who  came 
to  our  lumber  camp  discovered  me,  and  gave  me  a 
chance  to  begin.  I  went  to  Milwaukee  first,  and  they 
made  me  think  I  was  somebody.  Then  I  came  on  to 
New  York,  and  they  made  me  think  I  was  nobody.  I 
had  to  go  to  Europe  to  find  out  which  I  was ;  but  after 
I  had  been  there  long  enough  I  didn't  care  to  know. 
What  I  was  trying  to  do  was  the  important  thing  to 
me ;  not  the  fellow  who  was  trying  to  do  it." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  with  intelligence. 

"  I  met  some  Boston  people  in  Italy,  and  I  thought 
I  should  like  to  live  where  that  kind  of  people  lived. 
That's  the  way  I  came  to  be  in  Boston.  It  all  seems 
very  simple  now,  but  I  used  to  think  it  might  look 
romantic  from  the  outside.  I've  had  a  happy  life ; 
and  I'm  glad  it  began  in  the  country.  I  shouldn't 
care  if  it  ended  there.  I  don't  know  why  I've  both 
ered  you  with  my  autobiography,  though.  Perhaps 
because  I  thought  you  knew  it  already." 

She  looked  as  if  she  would  have  said  something  fit 
ting  if  she  could  have  ruled  herself  to  it ;  but  she  said 
nothing  at  all.  Her  failure  seemed  to  abash  her,  and 


302  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

she  could  only  ask  him  if  he  would  not  have  some 
more  coffee,  and  then  excuse  herself,  and  leave  him 
to  finish  his  breakfast  alone. 

That  day  he  tried  for  his  picture  from  several  points 
out-of-doors  before  he  found  that  his  own  window 
gave  him  the  best.  With  the  window  open,  and  the 
stove  warm  at  his  back,  he  worked  there  in  great  com 
fort  nearly  every  afternoon.  The  snows  kept  off,  and 
.the  clear  sunsets  burned  behind  the  summit  day  after 
day.  lie  painted  frankly  and  faithfully,  and  made  a 
picture  which,  he  said  to  himself,  no  one  would  believe 
in,  with  that  warm  color  tender  upon  the  frozen  hills. 
The  soft  suffusion  of  the  winter  scene  was  improbable 
to  him  when  he  had  it  in  nature  before  his  eyes  ;  when 
he  looked  at  it  as  he  got  it  on  his  canvas  it  was  sim 
ply  impossible. 

In  the  forenoons  he  had  nothing  to  do,  for  he 
worked  at  his  picture  only  when  the  conditions  re 
newed  themselves  with  the  sinking  sun.  He  tried  to 
be  in  the  open  air,  and  get  the  good  of  it ;  but  his 
strength  for  walking  had  failed  him,  and  he  kept 
mostly  to  the  paths  broken  around  the  house.  He 
went  a  good  deal  to  the  barn  with  Whitwell  and  Jom- 
bateeste  to  look  after  the  cattle  and  the  horses,  whose 
subdued  stamping  and  champing  gave  him  a  sort  of 
animal  pleasure.  The  blended  odors  of  the  hay-mows 
and  of  the  creatures'  breaths  came  to  him  with  the 
faint  warmth  which  their  bodies  diffused  through  the 
cold  obscurity. 

When  the  wide  doors  were  rolled  back,  and  the 
full  day  was  let  in,  he  liked  the  appeal  of  their  startled 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  303 

eyes,  and  the  calls  they  made  to  one  another  from 
their  stalls,  while  the  men  spoke  back  to  them  in  terms 
which  they  seemed  to  have  in  common  with  them,  and 
with  the  poultry  that  flew  down  from  the  barn  lofts 
to  the  barn  floor  and  out  into  the  brilliant  day,  with 
loud  clamor  and  affected  alarm. 

In  these  simple  experiences  he  could  not  imagine 
the  summer  life  of  the  place.  It  was  nowhere  more 
extinct  than  in  the  hollow  verandas,  where  the  rock 
ing-chairs  swung  in  July  and  August,  and  where  West- 
over's  steps  in  his  long  tramps  up  and  down  woke  no 
echo  of  the  absent  feet.  In-doors  he  kept  to  the  few 
stove-heated  rooms  where  he  dwelt  with  the  family, 
and  sent  only  now  and  then  a  vague  conjecture  into 
the  hotel  built  round  the  old  farm-house.  He  meant, 
before  he  left,  to  ask  Mrs.  Durgin  to  let  him  go 
through  the  hotel,  but  he  put  it  off  from  day  to  day, 
with  a  physical  shrinking  from  its  cold  and  solitude. 

The  days  went  by  in  the  swiftness  of  monotony. 
His  excursions  to  the  barn,  his  walks  on  the  verandas, 
his  work  on  his  picture,  filled  up  the  few  hours  of  the 
light,  and  when  the  dark  came  he  contentedly  joined 
the  little  group  in  Mrs.  Durgin's  parlor.  He  had 
brought  two  or  three  books  with  him,  and  sometimes 
he  read  from  one  of  them ;  or  he  talked  with  Whit- 
well  on  some  of  the  questions  of  life  and  death  that 
engaged  his  speculative  mind.  Jombateeste  preferred 
the  kitchen  for  the  naps  he  took  after  supper  before 
his  early  bedtime.  Frank  Whitwell  sat  with  his  books 
there,  where  Westover  sometimes  saw  Ms  sister  help 
ing  him  at  his  studies.  He  was  loyally  faithful  and 


304  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

obedient  to  her  in  all  things.  He  helped  her  with  the 
dishes,  and  was  not  ashamed  to  be  seen  at  this  work ; 
she  had  charge  of  his  goings  and  comings  in  society ; 
he  submitted  to  her  taste  in  his  dress,  and  accepted 
her  counsel  on  many  points  which  he  referred  to  her, 
and  discussed  with  her  in  low-spoken  conferences.  He 
seemed  a  formal,  serious  boy,  shy  like  his  sister;  his 
father  let  fall  some  hints  of  a  religious  cast  of  mind  in 
him.  He  had  an  ambition  beyond  the  hotel ;  he  wished 
to  study  for  the  ministry ;  and  it  was  not  alone  the 
chance  of  going  home  with  the  girls  that  made  liim 
constant  at  the  evening  meetings.  "/  don't  know 
where  he  gits  it,"  said  his  father  with  a  shake  of  the 
head  that  suggested  doubt  of  the  wisdom  of  the  son's 
preference  of  theology  to  planchette. 

Cynthia  had  the  same  care  of  her  father  as  of  her 
brother;  she  kept  him  neat,  and  held  him  up  from 
lapsing  into  the  slovenliness  to  which  he  would  have 
tended  if  she  had  not,  as  Westover  suspected,  made 
constant  appeals  to  him  for  the  respect  due  their  guest. 
Mrs.  Durgin,  for  her  part,  left  everything  to  Cynthia, 
with  a  contented  acceptance  of  her  future  rule  and 
an  abiding  trust  in  her  sense  and  strength,  which  in 
cluded  the  details  of  the  light  work  that  employed  her 
rather  luxurious  leisure.  Jombateeste  himself  came 
to  Cynthia  with  his  mending,  and  her  needle  kept  him 
tight  and  firm  against  the  winter  which  it  amused 
Westover  to  realize  was  the  Canuck's  native  element, 
insomuch  that  there  was  now  something  incongruous 
in  the  notion  of  Jombateeste  and  any  other  season. 

The  girl's  motherly  care  of  all  the  household  did  not 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  305 

leave  Westover  out.  Buttons  appeared  on  garments 
long  used  to  shifty  contrivances  for  getting  on  with 
out  them ;  button-holes  were  restored  to  their  proper 
limits ;  his  overcoat  pockets  were  searched  for  gloves, 
and  the  gloves  put  back  with  their  finger-tips  drawn 
close  as  the  petals  of  a  flower  which  had  decided  to 
shut  and  be  a  bud  again. 

He  wondered  how  he  could  thank  her  for  his  share 
of  the  blessing  that  her  passion  for  motherly  care  was 
to  all  the  house.  It  was  pathetic,  and  he  used  some 
time  to  forecast  her  self-devotion  with  a  tender  indig 
nation,  which  included  a  due  sense  of  his  own  present 
demerit.  He  was  not  reconciled  to  the  sacrifice  be 
cause  it  seemed  the  happiness,  or  at  least  the  will,  of 
the  nature  which  made  it.  All  the  same  it  seemed  a 
waste,  in  its  relation  to  the  man  she  was  to  marry. 

Mrs.  Durgin  and  Cynthia  sat  by  the  lamp  and  sewed 
at  night,  or  listened  to  the  talk  of  the  men.  If  West- 
over  read  aloud,  they  whispered  together  from  time 
to  time  about  some  matter  remote  from  it,  as  women 
always  do  where  there  is  reading.  It  was  quiet,  but 
it  was  not  dull  for  Westover,  who  found  himself  in  no 
hurry  to  get  back  to  town. 

Sometimes  he  thought  of  the  town  with  repulsion ; 
its  unrest,  'its  vacuous,  troubled  life  haunted  him  like 
a  memory  bf  sickness  ;  but  he  supposed  that  when  he 
should  be  <|uite  well  again  all  that  would  change,  and 
be  as  it  waw  before.  He  interested  himself,  with  the 
sort  of  shrewd  ignorance  of  it  that  Cynthia  showed  in 
the  questions  she  asked  about  it  now  and  then  when 
they  chanced  to  be  left  alone  together.  He  fancied 
T  ' 


306  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

that  she  was  trying  to  form  some  intelligible  image  of 
Jeff's  environment  there,  and  was  piecing  together 
from  his  talk  of  it  the  impressions  she  had  got  from 
summer  folks.  He  did  his  best  to  help  her,  and  to 
construct  for  her  a  veritable  likeness  of  the  world  as 
far  as  he  knew  it. 

A  time  came  when  he  spoke  frankly  of  Jeff  in 
something  they  were  saying,  and  she  showed  no  such 
shrinking  as  he  had  expected  she  would ;  he  reflected 
that  she  might  have  made  stricter  conditions  with 
Mrs.  Durgin  than  she  expected  to  keep  herself  in 
mentioning  him.  This  might  well  have  been  necessary 
with  the  mother's  pride  in  her  son  which  knew  no 
stop  when  it  once  began  to  indulge  itself.  What 
struck  Westover  more  than  the  girl's  self-possession 
when  they  talked  of  Jeff  was  a  certain  austerity  in 
her  with  regard  to  him.  She  seemed  to  hold  herself 
tense  against  any  praise  of  him,  as  if  she  should  fail 
him  somehow  if  she  relaxed  at  all  in  his  favor. 

This,  at  least,  was  the  rather  mystifying  impression 
which  Westover  got  from  her  evident  wish  to  criticise 
and  understand  exactly  all  that  he  reported,  rather 
than  to  flatter  herself  from  it.  Whatever  her  motive 
was,  he  was  aware  that  through  it  all  she  permitted 
herself  a  closer  and  fuller  trust  of  himself,'  At  times 
it  was  almost  too  implicit ;  he  would  h£ve  liked  to 
deserve  it  better  by  laying  open  all  that  had  been  in 
his  heart  against  Jeff.  But  he  forbore,  of  course,  and 
he  took  refuge,  as  well  as  he  could,  in  the  respect  by 
which  she  held  herself  at  a  reverent  distance  from 
him  when  he  could  not  wholly  respect  himself. 


XL. 

ONE  morning  Westover  got  leave  from  Mrs.  Durgin 
to  help  Cynthia  open  the  dim  rooms  and  cold  corri 
dors  at  the  hotel  to  the  sun  and  air.  She  promised 
him  he  should  take  his  death,  but  he  said  he  would 
wrap  up  warm,  and  when  he  came  to  join  the  girl  in 
his  overcoat  and  fur  cap,  he  found  Cynthia  equipped 
with  a  woollen  cloud  tied  around  her  head,  and  a  little 
shawl  pinned  across  her  breast. 

"Is  that  all?"  he  reproached  her.  "I  ought  to 
have  put  on  a  single  wreath  of  artificial  flowers  and 
some  sort  of  a  blazer  for  this  expedition.  Don't  you 
think  so,  Mrs.  Durgin  ?  " 

"  I  believe  women  can  stand  about  twice  as  much 
cold  as  you  can,  the  best  of  you,"  she  answered, 
grimly. 

"  Then  I  must  tfy  to  keep  myself  as  warm  as  I  can 
with  work,"  he  said.  "  You  must  let  me  do  all  the 
rough  work  of  airing  out,  won't  you,  Cynthia  ? " 

"  There  isn't  any  rough  work  about  it,"  she  an 
swered,  in  a  sort  of  (motherly  toleration  of  his  mood, 
without  losing  anything  of  her  filial  reverence. 


308  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

She  took  care  of  him,  he  perceived,  as  she  took  care 
of  her  brother  and  her  father,  but  with  a  delicate  re 
spect  for  his  superiority,  which  was  no  longer  shyness. 

They  began  with  the  office  and  the  parlor,  where 
they  flung  up  the  windows,  and  opened  the  doors,  and 
then  they  opened  the  dining-room,  where  the  tables 
stood  in  long  rows,  with  the  chairs  piled  on  them  legs 
upwards.  Cynthia  went  about  with  many  sighs  for 
the  dust  on  everything,  though  to  Westover's  eyes  it 
all  seemed  frigidly  clean.  "  If  it  goes  on  as  it  has 
for  the  past  two  years,"  she  said,  "  we  shall  have  to 
add  on  a  new  dining-room.  I  don't  know  as  I  like  to 
have  it  get  so  large  !  " 

"  I  never  wanted  it  to  go  beyond  the  original  farm 
house,"  said  Westover.  "  I've  been  jealous  of  every 
boarder  but  the  first.  I  should  have  liked  to  keep  it 
for  myself,  and  let  the  world  know  Lion's  Head  from 
my  pictures." 

"  I  guess  Mrs.  Durgin  thinks  it  was  your  picture 
that  began  to  send  people  here." 

"  And  do  you  blame  me,  too  ?  What  if  the  thing 
I'm  doing  now  should  make  it  a  winter  resort  ?  Noth 
ing  could  save  you,  then,  but  a  fire.  I  believe  that's 
Jeff's  ambition.  Only  he  would  want  to  put  another 
hotel  in  place  of  this ;  something  'that  would  be  more 
popular.  Then  the  ruin  I  began  Would  be  complete, 
and  I  shouldn't  come  any  more;  I  couldn't  bear  the 
sight." 

"  I  guess  Mrs.  Durgin  wouldr/'t  think  it  was  Lion's 
Head  if  you  stopped  coming,"  s^id  Cynthia. 

"  But    you  would    know    better    than    that,"    said 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  309 

Westover ;  and  then  he  was  sorry  he  had  said  it,  for 
it  seemed  to  ask  something  of  different  quality  from 
her  honest  wish  to  make  him  know  their  regard  for 
him. 

She  did  not  answer,  but  went  down  a  long  corridor 
to  which  they  had  mounted,  to  raise  the  window  at  the 
end,  while  he  raised  another  at  the  opposite  extremity. 
When  they  met  at  the  stairway  again  to  climb  to  the 
story  above,  he  said,  "  I  am  always  ashamed  when  I 
try  to  make  a  person  of  sense  say  anything  silly," 
and  she  flushed,  still  without  answering,  as  if  she  un 
derstood  him,  and  his  meaning  pleased  her.  "But 
fortunately  a  person  of  sense  is  usually  equal  to  the 
temptation.  One  ought  to  be  serious  when  he  tries 
it  with  a  person  of  the  other  sort ;  but  I  don't  know 
that  one  is  ! " 

"  Do  you  feel  any  draught  between  these  win 
dows  ? "  asked  Cynthia,  abruptly.  "  I  don't  want  you 
should  take  cold." 

"  Oh,  I'm  all  right,"  said  Westover. 

She  went  into  the  rooms  on  one  side  of  the  corri 
dor,  and  put  up  their  windows,  and  flung  the  blinds 
back.  He  did  the  same  on  the  other  side.  He  got  a 
peculiar  effect  of  desolation  from  the  mattresses  pulled 
down  over  the  foot  of  the  bedsteads,  and  the  dis 
mantled  interiors  reflected  in  the  mirrors  of  the  dress 
ing-cases;  and  he  was  going  to  speak  of  it  when  he 
rejoined  Cynthia  at  the  stairway  leading  to  the  third 
story,  when  she  said,  "  Those  were  Mrs.  Vostrand's 
rooms  I  came  out  of  the  last."  She  nodded  her  head 
over  her  shoulder  towards  the  floor  they  were  leaving. 


310  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Were  they  indeed  !  And  do  you  remember  peo 
ple's  rooms  so  long  ?  " 

"Yes;  I  always  think  of  rooms  by  the  name  of 
people  that  have  them,  if  they're  any  way  peculiar." 

He  thought  this  bit  of  uncandor  charming,  and 
accepted  it  as  if  it  were  the  whole  truth.  "  And  Mrs. 
Vostrand  was  certainly  peculiar.  Tell  me,  Cynthia, 
what  did  you  think  of  her  ? " 

"  She  was  only  here  a  little  while." 

"  But  you  wouldn't  have  come  to  think  of  her 
rooms  by  her  name  if  she  hadn't  made  a  strong  im 
pression  on  you  ! "  She  did  not  answer,  and  he  said, 
"  I  see  you  didn't  like  her !  " 

The  girl  would  not  speak,  and  Mr.  Westover  went 
on  :  "  She  used  to  be  very  good  to  me,  and  I  think  she 
used  to  be  better  to  herself  than  she  is  now."  He 
knew  that  Jeff  must  have  told  Cynthia  of  his  affair 
with  Genevieve  Vostrand,  and  he  kept  himself  from 
speaking  of  her  by  a  resolution  he  thought  creditable, 
as  he%mounted  the  stairs  to  the  upper  story  in  the 
silence  to  which  Cynthia  left  his  last  remark.  At  the 
top  she  made  a  little  pause  in  the  obscurer  light  of  the 
close-shuttered  corridor,  while  she  said,  "  I  liked  her 
daughter  the  best." 

"Yes?"  he  returned.  "I  never  felt  very  well  ac 
quainted  with  her,  I  believe.  One  couldn't  get  far 
with  her.  Though,  for  the  matter  of  that,  one  didn't 
get  far  with  Mrs.  Vostrand  herself.  Did  you  think 
Genevieve  was  much  influenced  by  her  mother?" 

"  She  didn't  seem  a  strong  character." 

"  No,  that  was  it.    She  was  what  her  mother  wished 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  311 

her  to  be.  I've  often  wondered  how  much  she  was 
interested  in  the  marriage  she  made." 

Cynthia  let  a  rustic  silence  ensue,  and  Westover 
shrank  again  from  the  inquisition  he  longed  to  make. 

It  was  not  Gene  vie  ve  Vostrand's  marriage  which 
really  concerned  him,  but  Cynthia's  engagement,  and 
it  was  her  mind  that  he  would  have  liked  to  look  into. 
It  might  well  be  supposed  that  she  regarded  it  in  a 
perfect  matter-of-fact  way,  and  with  no  ambition  be 
yond  it.  She  was  a  country  girl,  acquainted  from 
childhood  with  facts  of  life  which  town-bred  girls 
would  not  have  known  without  a  blunting  of  the  sen 
sibilities,  and  why  should  she  be  different  from  other 
country  girls  ?  She  might  be  as  good  and  as  fine  as 
he  saw  her,  and  yet  be  insensible  to  the  spiritual 
toughness  of  Jeff,  because  of  her  love  for  him.  Her 
very  goodness  might  make  his  badness  unimaginable 
to  her,  and  if  her  refinement  were  from  the  conscience 
merely,  and  not  from  the  tastes  and  experiences,  too, 
there  was  not  so  much  to  dread  for  her  in  her  mar 
riage  with  such  a  man.  Still,  he  would  have  liked,  if 
he  could,  to  tell  her  what  he  had  told  her  father  of 
Durgin's  behavior  with  Lynde,  and  let  her  bring  the 
test  of  her  self-devotion  to  the  case  with  a  clear  un 
derstanding.  He  had  sometimes  been  afraid  that 
Whitwell  might  not  be  able  to  keep  it  to  himself  ;  but 
now  he  wished  that  the  philosopher  had  not  been  so 
discreet.  He  had  all  this  so  absorbingly  in  mind  that 
he  started  presently  with  the  fear  that  she  had  said 
something  and  he  had  not  answered,  but  when  he 
asked  her  he  found  that  she  had  not  spoken.  They 


312  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

were  standing  at  an  open  window  looking  out  upon 
Lion's  Head,  when  he  said :  "  I  don't  know  how  I 
shall  show  my  gratitude  to  Mrs.  Durgin  and  you  for 
thinking  of  having  me  up  here.  I've  done  a  picture 
of  Lion's  Head  that  might  be  ever  so  much  worse; 
but  I  shouldn't  have  dreamed  of  getting  at  it  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  you,  though  I've  so  often  dreamed  of 
doing  it.  Now  I  shall  go  home  richer  in  every  sort 
of  way — thanks  to  you." 

She  answered,  simply,  "You  needn't  thank  any 
body  ;  but  it  was  Jeff  who  thought  of  it ;  we  were 
ready  enough  to  ask  you." 

"That was  very  good  of  him,"  said  Westover,  whom 
her  words  confirmed  in  a  suspicion  he  had  had  all 
along.  But  what  did  it  matter  that  Jeff  had  sug 
gested  their  asking  him,  and  then  attributed  the  notion 
to  them  ?  It  was  not  so  malign  for  him  to  use  that 
means  of  ingratiating  himself  with  Westover,  and  of 
making  him  forget  his  behavior  with  Lynde,  and  it 
was  not  unnatural.  It  was  very  characteristic  ;  at  the 
worst  it  merely  proved  that  Jeff  was  more  ashamed  of 
what  he  had  done  than  he  would  allow,  and  that  was 
to  his  credit. 

He  heard  Cynthia  asking,  "  Mr.  Westover,  have 
you  ever  been  at  Class  Day  ?  He  wants  us  to  come." 

"  Class  Day  ?  Oh,  Class  Day  !  "  He  took  a  little 
time  to  gather  himself  together.  "  Yes,  I've  been  at 
a  good  many.  If  you  care  to  see  something  pretty, 
it's  the  prettiest  thing  in  the  world.  The  students' 
sisters  and  mothers  come  from  everywhere;  and 
there's  fashion  and  feasting  and  flirting,  from  ten  in 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  313 

the  morning  till  ten  at  night.  I'm  not  sure  there's  so 
much  happiness;  but  I  can't  tell.  The  young  people 
know  about  that.  I  fancy  there's  a  good  deal  of  de 
feat  and  disappointment  in  it  all.  But  if  you  like 
beautiful  dresses,  and  music  and  dancing,  and  a  great 
nutter  of  gayety,  you  can  get  more  of  it  at  Class  Day 
than  you  can  in  any  other  way.  The  good  time  de 
pends  a  great  deal  upon  the  acquaintance  a  student 
has,  and  whether  he  is  popular  in  college."  Westover 
found  this  road  a  little  impassable,  and  he  faltered. 

Cynthia  did  not  apparently  notice  his  hesitation. 
"  Do  you  think  Mrs.  Durgin  would  like  it?" 

"  Mrs.  Durgin  ?"  Westover  found  that  he  had  been 
leaving  her  out  of  the  account,  and  had  been  thinking 
only  of  Cynthia's  pleasure  or  pain.  "  Well,  I  don't 
suppose — it  would  be  rather  fatiguing —  Did  Jeff 
want  her  to  come  too  ?  " 

"  He  said  so." 

"  That's  very  nice  of  him.  If  he  could  devote  him 
self  to  her ;  but —  And  would  she  like  to  go  ? " 

"  To  please  him,  she  would."  Westover  was  silent, 
and  the  girl  surprised  him  by  the  appeal  she  suddenly 
made  to  him.  "Mr.  Westover,  do  you 'believe  it 
would  be  very  well  for  either  of  us  to  go  ?  I  think  it 
would  be  better  for  us  to  leave  all  that  part  of  his  life 
alone.  It's  no  use  in  pretending  that  we're  like  the 
kind  of  people  he  knows,  or  that  we  know  their  ways, 
and  I  don't  believe — " 

Westover  felt  his  heart  rise  in  indignant  sympathy. 
"  There  isn't  any  one  he  knows  to  compare  with  you  !" 
he  said,  and  in  this  he  was  thinking  mainly  of  Bessie 


314  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

Lynde.      "  You're  worth  a  thousand—      If  I  were if 

he's  half  a  man  he  would  be  proud —  I  beg  your  par 
don  !     I  don't  mean — but  you  understand " 

Cynthia  put  her  head  far  out  of  the  window,  and 
looked  along  the  steep  roof  before  them.  "  There  is 
a  blind  off  one  of  the  windows.  I  heard  it  clapping 
in  the  wind  the  other  night.  I  must  go  and  see  the 
number  of  the  room."  She  drew  her  head  in  quickly 
and  ran  away  without  letting  him  see  her  face. 

He  followed  her.  "  Let  me  help  you  put  it  on 
again !  " 

"  No,  no  !  "  she  called  back.  "  Frank  will  do  that, 
or  Jombateeste,  when  they  come  to  shut  up  the 
house." 


XLI. 

Westover  did  not  meet  Durgin  for  several  days  af 
ter  his  return  from  Lion's  Head.  He  brought  mes 
sages  for  him  from  his  mother  and  from  Whitwell, 
and  he  waited  for  him  to  come  and  get  them  so  long 
that  he  had  to  blame  himself  for  not  sending  them  to 
him.  When  Jeff  appeared,  at  the  end  of  a  week, 
Westover  had  a  certain  embarrassment  in  meeting 
him,  and  the  effort  to  overcome  this  carried  him  be 
yond,  his  sincerity.  He  was  aware  of  feigning  the 
cordiality  he  showed,  and  of  having  less  real  liking 
for  him  than  ever  before.  He  suggested  that  he  must 
be  busier  every  day,  now,  with  his  college  work,  and  he 
resented  the  air  of  social  prosperity  which  Jeff  put  on 
in  saying,  Yes,  there  was  that,  and  then  he  had  some 
engagements  which  kept  him  from  coming  in  sooner. 

He  did  not  say  what  the  engagements  were,  and 
they  did  not  recur  to  the  things  they  had  last  spoken 
of.  Westover  could  not  do  so  without  Jeff's  leading, 
and  he  was  rather  glad  that  he  gave  none.  He  stayed 
only  a  little  time,  which  was  spent  mostly  in  a  show 
of  interest  on  both  sides,  and  the  hollow  hilarities 
which  people  use  to  mask  their  indifference  to  one  an 
other's  being  and  doing.  Jeff  declared  that  he  had 


316  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

never  seen  Westover  looking  so  well,  and  said  lie 
mnst  go  up  to  Lion's  Head  again ;  it  had  done  him 
good.  As  for  his  picture,  it  was  a  corker ;  it  made 
him  feel  as  if  he  were  there !  He  asked  about  all  the 
folks,  and  received  Westover's  replies  with  vague 
laughter,  and  an  absence  in  his  bold  eye,  which  made 
the  painter  wonder  what  his  mind  was  on,  without  the 
wish  to  find  out.  He  was  glad  to  have  him  go,  though 
he  pressed  him  to  drop  in  soon  again,  and  said  they 
would  take  in  a  play  together. 

Jeff  said  he  would  like  to  do  that,  and  he  asked  at 
the  door  whether  Westover  was  going  to  the  tea  at 
Mrs.  Bellingham's.  He  said  he  had  to  look  in  there, 
before  he  went  out  to  Cambridge ;  and  left  Westover 
in  mute  amaze  at  the  length  he  had  apparently  gone  in 
a  road  that  had  once  seemed  no  thoroughfare  for  him. 
Jeff's  social  acceptance,  even  after  the  Enderby  .ball, 
which  was  now  some  six  or  seven  weeks  past,  had  been 
slow ;  but  of  late,  for  no  reason  that  he  or  any  one  else 
could  have  given,  it  had  gained  a  sudden  precipitance ; 
and  people  who  wondered  why  they  met  him  at  other 
houses  began  to  ask  him  to  their  own. 

He  did  not  care  to  go  to  their  houses,  and  he  went 
at  first  in  the  hope  of  seeing  Bessie  Lynde  again.  But 
this  did  not  happen  for  some  time,  and  it  was  a  mid- 
Lenten  tea  that  brought  them  together.  As  soon  as  he 
caught  sight  of  her  he  went  up  to  her  and  began  to 
talk  as  if  they  had  been  in  the  habit  of  meeting  con 
stantly.  She  could  not  control  a  little  start  at  his  ap 
proach,  and  he  frankly  recognized  it. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  " 


HE  CONTINUED   TO   GO   WITH   HER 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  317 

"  Oh — the  window—" 

"  It  isn't  open,"  he  said,  trying  it.  "Do  you  want 
to  try  it  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  can  trust  yon,"  she  answered,  but  she 
sank  a  little  into  the  shelter  of  the  curtains,  not  to  be 
seen  talking  with  him,  perhaps,  or  not  to  be  interrupt 
ed — she  did  not  analyze  her  motive  closely. 

He  remained  talking  to  her  until  she  went  away, 
and  then  he  contrived  to  go  with  her.  She  did  not 
try  to  escape  him  after  that ;  each  time  they  met  she 
had  the  pleasure  of  realizing  that  there  had  never  been 
any  danger  of  what  never  happened.  But  beyond 
this  she  could  perhaps  have  given  no  better  reason  for 
her  willingness  to  meet  him  again  and  again  than-  the 
bewildered  witnesses  of  the  fact.  In  her  set  people 
not  only  never  married  outside  of  it,  but  they  never 
flirted  outside  of  it.  For  one  of  themselves,  even  for 
a  girl  like  Bessie,  whom  they  had  not  quite  known 
from  childhood,  to  be  apparently  amusing  herself 
with  a  man  like  that,  so  wholly  alien  in  origin,  in  tra 
dition,  was  something  unheard  of ;  and  it  began  to 
look  as  if  Bessie  Lynde  was  more  than  amused.  It 
seemed  to  Mary  Enderby  that  wherever  she  went 
she  saw  that  man  talking  to  Bessie.  She  could 
have  believed  that  it  was  by  some  evil  art  that  he  al 
ways  contrived  to  reach  Bessie's  side,  if  anything 
could  have  been  less  like  any  kind  of  art  than  the 
bold  push  he  made  for  her  as  soon  as  he  saw  her  in  a 
room.  But  sometimes  Miss  Enderby  feared  that  it 
was  Bessie  who  used  such  finesse  as  there  was,  and  al 
ways  put  herself  where  he  could  see  her.  She  waited 


318  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

with  trembling  for  her  to  give  the  affair  sanction  by 
making  her  aunt  ask  him  to  something  at  her  house. 
On  the  other  hand,  she  could  not  help  feeling  that 
Bessie's  flirtation  was  all  the  more  deplorable  for  the 
want  of  some  such  legitimation. 

She  did  not  even  know  certainly  whether  Jeff  ever 
called  upon  Bessie  at  her  aunt's  house,  till  one  day 
the  man  let  him  out  at  the  same  time  he  let  her  in. 

"  Oh,  come  up,  Molly  !  "  Bessie  sang  out  from  the 
floor  above,  and  met  her  half-way  down  the  stairs, 
where  she  kissed  her  and  led  her  embraced  into  the 
library. 

"You  don't  like  my  jay,  do  you,  dear?"  she  asked 
promptly. 

Mary  Enderby  turned  her  face,  the  mirror  of  con 
science  upon  her,  and  asked,  "  Is  he  your  jay  ?  " 

"  Well,  no ;  not  just  in  that  sense,  Molly.  But  sup 
pose  he  was  ? " 

"  Then  I  should  have  nothing  to  say." 
"And  suppose  he  wasn't?" 

Still  Mary  Enderby  found  herself  with  nothing  of 
all  she  had  a  thousand  times  thought  she  should  say 
to  Bessie  if  she  had  ever  the  slightest  chance.  It  al 
ways  seemed  so  easy,  till  now,  to  take  Bessie  in  her 
arms,  and  appeal  to  her  good  sense,  her  self-respect, 
her  regard  for  her  family  and  friends ;  and  now  it 
seemed  so  impossible. 

She  heard  herself  answering  very  stiffly  :  "Perhaps 
I'd  better  apologize  for  what  I've  said  already.  You 
must  think  I  was  very  unjust  the  last  time  we  men 
tioned  him." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  319 

"  Not  at  all !  "  cried  Bessie,  with  a  laugh  that  sound 
ed  very  mocking  and  very  unworthy  to  her  friend. 
"  He's  all  that  you  said,  and  worse.  But  he's  more 
than  you  said,  and  better." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Mary,  coldly. 

"  He's  very  interesting  ;  he's  original ;  he's  differ 
ent  ! " 

"  Oh,  every  one  says  that." 

"  And  he  doesn't  flatter  me,  or  pretend  to  think 
much  of  me.  If  he  did,  I  couldn't  bear  him.  You 
know  how  I  am,  Molly.  He  keeps  me  interested, 
don't  you  understand,  and  prowling  about  in  the  great 
unknown  where  he  has  his  Aveird  being. " 

Bessie  put  her  hand  to  her  mouth,  and  laughed  at 
Mary  Enderby  with  her  slanted  eyes ;  a  sort  of  Paris 
ian  version  of  a  Chinese  motive  in  eyes. 

"  I  suppose,"  her  friend  said,  sadly,  "  You  won't 
tell  me  more  than  you  wish." 

"I  won't  tell  you  more  than  I  know — though  I'd 
like  to,"  said  Bessie.  She  gave  Mary  a  sudden  hug. 
"  You  dear  !  There  isn't  anything  of  it,  if  that's  what 
you  mean." 

"  But  isn't  there  danger  that  there  will  be,  Bessie  ? " 
her  friend  entreated. 

"  Danger  ?     I  shouldn't  call  it  danger,  exactly  ! " 

"  But  if  you  don't  respect  him,  Bessie — 

"  Why,  how  can  I  ?     He  doesn't  respect  me  !  " 

"  I  know  you're  teasing,  now,  said  Mary  Enderby, 
getting  up,  "  and  you're  quite  right.  I  have  no  busi 
ness  to — '' 

Bessie  pulled  her  down  upon  the  seat  again.    "  Yes, 


320  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

you  have  !  Don't  I  tell  you,  over  and  over  ?  He 
doesn't  respect  me,  because  I  don't  know  how  to  make 
him,  and  he  wouldn't  like  it,  if  I  did.  But  now,  I'll 
try  to  make  you  understand.  I  don't  believe  I  care 
for  him  the  least ;  but  mind,  I'm  not  certain,  for  I've 
never  cared  for  any  one,  and  I  don't  know  what  it's 
like.  You  know  I'm  not  sentimental ;  I  think  senti 
ment's  funny ;  and  I'm  not  dignified — " 

"  You're  divine,"  murmured  Mary  Enderby,  with 
reproachful  adoration. 

"  Yes,  but  you  see  how  my  divinity  could  be  im 
proved,"  said  Bessie  with  a  wild  laugh.  "  I'm  not 
sentimental,  but  I'm  emotional,  and  he  gives  me  emo 
tions.  He's  a  riddle,  and  I'm  all  the  time  guessing  at 
him.  You  get  the  answer  to  the  kind  of  men  we  know 
easily ;  and  it's  very  nice,  but  it  doesn't  amuse  you  so 
much  as  trying.  Now,  Mr.  Durgin — what  a  name !  I 
can  see  it  makes  you  creep — is  no  more  like  one  of  us 
than  a — bear  is  ;  and  his  attitude  towards  us  is  that 
of  a  bear  who's  gone  so  much  with  human  beings  that 
he  thinks  he's  a  human  being.  He's  delightful,  that 
way.  And,  do  you  know,  he's  intellectual !  He  actu 
ally  brings  me  books,  and  wants  to  read  passages  to 
me  out  of  them  !  He  has  brought  me  the  plans  of 
the  new  hotel  he's  going  to  build.  It's  to  be  very  aes 
thetic,  and  it's  going  to  be  called  The  Lion's  Head 
Inn.  There's  to  be  a  little  theatre,  for  amateur  dra 
matics,  which  I  could  conduct,  and  for  all  sorts  of 
professional  amusements.  If  you  should  ever  come, 
Molly,  I'm  sure  we  shall  do  our  best  to  make  you 
comfortable." 


THE    LANDLOKD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  321 

Mary  Enderby  would  not  let  Bessie  laugh  upon  her 
shoulder  after  she  said  this.  "Bessie  Lynde,"  she 
said,  severely,  "  if  you  have  no  regard  for  yourself,  you 
ought  to  have  some  regard  for  him.  You  may  say  you 
are  not  encouraging  him,  and  you  may  believe  it — 

"  Oh,  I  shouldn't  say  it  if  I  didn't  believe  it,"  Bes 
sie  broke  in  with  a  mock  air  of  seriousness. 

"  I  must  be  going,"  said  Mary,  stiffly,  and  this  time 
she  succeeded  in  getting  to  her  feet. 

Bessie  laid  hold  of  her  again.  "  You  think  you've 
been  trifled  with,  don't  you,  dear  ? " 

"  No—" 

"  Yes,  you  do  !  Don't  you  try  to  be  slippery,  Mol 
ly.  The  plain  pikestaff  is  your  style,  morally  speak 
ing — if  any  one  knows  what  a  pikestaff  is.  Well,  now, 
listen  !  You're  anxious  about  me." 

"  You  know  how  I  feel,  Bessie,"  said  Mary  Ender 
by,  looking  her  in  the  eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Bessie.  "  The  trouble  is,  I  don't 
know  how  /  feel.  But  if  I  ever  do,  Molly,  I'll  tell 
you !  Is  that  fair  ? " 

"  Yes—" 

"  I'll  give  you  ample  warning.  At  the  least  little 
consciousness  in  the  region  of  the  pericardium,  off 
will  go  a  note  by  a  district  messenger,  and  when  you 
come  I'll  do  whatever  you  say.  There  ! " 

"  Oh,  Bessie ! "  cried  her  friend,  and  she  threw  her 
arms  round  her,  "  you  always  were  the  most  fascinat 
ing  creature  in  the  world!" 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie,  "  that's  what  I  try  to  have  him 
think." 

U 


XLII. 

TOWARDS  the  end  of  April  most  people  who  had 
places  at  the  Shore  were  mostly  in  them,  but  they 
came  up  to  town  on  frequent  errands,  and  had  one 
effect  of  evanescence  with  people  who  still  remained 
in  their  Boston  houses  provisionally,  and  seemed  more 
than  half  absent.  The  Enderbys  had  been  at  the 
Shore  for  a  fortnight,  and  the  Lyndes  were  going  to 
be  a  fortnight  longer  in  Boston,  yet,  as  Bessie  made 
her  friend  observe,  when  Mary  ran  in  for  lunch,  or 
stopped  for  a  moment  on  her  way  to  the  train,  every 
few  days,  they  were  both  of  the  same  transitory  qual- 
ity. 

"  It  might  as  well  be  I  as  you,"  Bessie  said  one 
day,  "  if  we  only  think  so.  It's  all  very  weird,  dear, 
and  I'm  not  sure  but  it  is  you  who  sit  day  after  day 
at  my  lonely  casement  and  watch  the  sparrows  exam 
ining  the  fuzzy  buds  of  the  Jap  ivy  to  see  just  how 
soon  they  can  hope  to  build  in  the  vines.  Do  you 
object  to  the  ivy  buds  looking  so  very  much  like 
snipped  woollen  rags  ?  If  you  do,  I'm  sure  it's  you, 
here  in  my  place,  for  when  I  come  up  to  town  in  your 
personality,  it  sets  my  teeth  on  edge.  In  fact,  that's 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  323 

the  worst  tiling  about  Boston  now — the  fuzzy  ivy 
buds ;  there's  so  much  ivy !  When  you  can  forget 
the  buds,  there  are  a  great  many  things  to  make  you 
happy.  I  feel  quite  as  if  we  were  spending  the  sum 
mer  in  town ;  and  I  feel  very  adventurous  and  very 
virtuous,  like  some  sort  of  self-righteous  bohemian. 
You  don't  know  how  I  look  down  on  people  who  have 
gone  out  of  town.  I  consider  them  very  selfish  and 
heartless ;  I  don't  know  why,  exactly.  But  when  we 
have  a  good  marrow-freezing  northeasterly  storm,  and 
the  newspapers  come  out  with  their  ironical  congrat 
ulations  to  the  tax-dodgers  at  the  Shore,  I  feel  that 
Providence  is  on  my  side,  and  I'm  getting  my  reward, 
even  in  this  world."  Bessie  suddenly  laughed.  "  I 
see  by  your  expression  of  fixed  inattention,  Molly, 
that  you're  thinking  of  Mr.  Durgin  !  " 

Mary  gave  a  start  of  protest,  but  she  was  too  hon 
est  to  deny  the  fact  outright,  and  Bessie  ran  on : 

"  No,  we  don't  sit  on  a  bench  in  the  Common,  or 
even  in  the  Garden,  or  on  the  walk  in  Commonwealth 
Avenue.  If  we  come  to  it  later,  as  the  season  ad 
vances,  I  shall  make  him  stay  quite  at  the  other  end 
of  the  bench,  and  not  put  his  hand  along  the  top. 
You  needn't  be  afraid,  Molly ;  all  the  proprieties  shall 
be  religiously  observed.  Perhaps  I  shall  ask  Aunt 
Louisa  to  let  us  sit  out  on  her  front  steps,  when  the 
evenings  get  warmer ;  but  I  assure  you  it's  much  more 
comfortable  in-doors  yet,  even  in  town,  though  you'll 
hardly  believe  it  at  the  Shore.  Shall  you  come  up  to 
Class  Day  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  Mary  began,  with  a  sigh  of 


324  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD 

the  baffled  hope  and  the  inextinguishable  expectation 
which  the  mention  of  Class  Day  stirs  in  the  heart  of 
every  Boston  girl  past  twenty. 

"  Yes ! "  said  Bessie,  with  a  sigh  burlesqued  from 
Mary's.  "  That  is  what  we  all  say,  and  it  is  certainly 
the  most  maddening  of  human  festivals.  I  suppose, 
if  we  were  quite  left  to  ourselves,  we  shouldn't  go; 
but  we  seem  never  to  be,  quite.  After  every  Class 
Day  I  say  to  myself  that  nothing  on  earth  could  induce 
me  to  go  to  another ;  but  when  it  comes  round  again, 
I  find  myself  grasping  at  any  straw  of  a  pretext.  I'm 
pretending  now  that  I've  a  tender  obligation  to  go  be 
cause  it's  his  Class  Day." 

"  Bessie  !  "  cried  Mary  Enderby.  "  You  don't 
mean  it ! " 

"  Not  if  I  say  it,  Mary  dear.  What  did  I  promise 
you  about  the  pericardiac  symptoms  ?  But  I  feel — I 
feel  that  if  he  asks  me  I  must  go.  Shouldn't  you  like 
to  go  and  see  a  jay  Class  Day — be  part  of  it?  Think 
of  going  once  to  the  Pi  Ute  spread — or  whatever  it 
is !  And  dancing  in  their  tent !  And  being  left  out 
of  the  Gym,  and  Beck  !  Yes,  I  ought  to  go,  so  that 
it  can  be  brought  home  to  me,  and  I  can  have  a  real 
izing  sense  of  what  I  am  doing,  and  be  stayed  in  my 
mad  career." 

"Perhaps,"  Mary  Enderby  suggested  colorlessly, 
"he  will  be  devoted  to  his  own  people."  She  had  a 
cold  fascination  in  the  picture  Bessie's  words  had  con 
jured  up,  and  she  was  saying  this  less  to  Bessie  than 
to  herself. 

"  And  I  should  meet  them — his  mothers  and  sis- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  325 

ters !  "  Bessie  dramatized  an  excess  of  anguish.  "  Oh, 
Mary,  that  is  the  very  thorn  I  have  been  trying  not  to 
press  my  heart  against ;  and  does  your  hand  commend 
it  to  my  embrace  2  His  folks  !  Yes,  they  would  be 
folks  ;  and  what  folks  !  I  think  I  am  getting  a  realiz 
ing  sense.  Wait !  Don't  speak — don't  move,  Molly  !  " 
Bessie  dropped  her  chin  into  her  hand,  and  stared 
straight  forward,  gripping  Mary  Enderby's  hand. 

Mary  withdrew  it.  "  I  shall  have  to  go,  Bessie," 
she  said.  "  How  is  your  aunt  ? " 

"  Must  you  ?  Then  I  shall  always  say  that  it  was 
your  fault  that  I  couldn't  get  a  realizing  sense — that 
you  prevented  me,  just  when  I  was  about  to  see  my 
self  as  others  see  me — as  you  see  me.  She's  very 
well !  "  Bessie  sighed  in  earnest,  and  her  friend  gave 
her  hand  a  little  pressure  of  true  sympathy.  "  But 
of  course  it's  rather  dull  here,  now." 

"  I  hate  to  have  you  staying  on.  Couldn't  you 
come  down  to  us  for  a  week  ? " 

"  No.  We  both  think  it's  best  to  be  here  when 
Alan  gets  back.  We  want  him  to  go  down  with  us." 
Bessie  had  seldom  spoken  openly  with  Mary  Enderby 
about  her  brother;  but  that  was  rather  from  Mary's 
shrinking  than  her  own;  she  knew  that  everybody 
understood  his  case.  She  went  so  far  now  as  to  say : 
"He's  ever  so  much  better  than  he  has  been.  We 
have  such  hopes  of  him,  if  he  can  keep  well,  when  he 
gets  back  this  time." 

" Oh,  I  know  he  will"  said  Mary,  fervently.  "  I'm 
sure  of  it.  Couldn't  we  do  something  for  you,  Bes 
sie  ? " 


326  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"No,  there  isn't  anything.  But — thank  you.  I 
know  you  always  think  of  me,  and  that's  worlds. 
When  are  you  coming  up  again  ? " 

"  I  don't  know.     Next  week,  some  time." 
"  Come  in  and  see  me — and  Alan,  if  he  should  be 
at  home.     He  likes  you,  and  he  will  be  so  glad." 

Mary  kissed  Bessie  for  consent.     "  You  know  how 
much  I  admire  Alan.     He  could  be  anything." 
"  Yes,  he  could.     If  he  could  !  " 
Bessie  seldom  put  so  much  earnest  in  anything,  ahd 
Mary  loved  (as  she  would  have  said)  the  sad  sincerity, 
the  honest  hopelessness  of  her  tone.     "  We  must  help 
him.     I  know  we  can." 

"We  must  try.  But  people  who  could — if  they 
could — "  Bessie  stopped. 

Her  friend  divined  that  she  was  no  longer  speaking 
wholly  of  her  brother,  but  she  said :  "  There  isn?t  any 
if  about  it ;  and  there  are  no  ifs  about  anything  if  we 
only  think  so.  It's  a  sin  not  to  think  so." 

The  mixture  of  severity  and  of  optimism  in  the 
nature  of  her  friend  had  often  amused  Bessie,  and  it 
did  not  escape  her  tacit  notice  in  even  so  serious  a 
moment  as  this.  Her  theory  was  that  she  was  shocked 
to  recognize  it  now,  because  of  its  relation  to  her 
brother,  but  her  theories  did  not  always  agree  with 
the  facts. 

That  evening,  however,  she  was  truly  surprised 
when,  after  a  rather  belated  ring  at  the  door,  the  card 
of  Mr.  Thomas  Jefferson  Durgin  came  up  to  her  from 
the  reception-room.  Her  aunt  had  gone  to  bed,  and 
she  had  a  luxurious  moment  in  which  she  reaped  all 


THE    LANDLORD    AT   LION'S    HEAD.  327 

the  reward  of  self-denial  by  supposing  herself  to  have 
foregone  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him,  and  sending 
down  word  that  she  was  not  at  home.  She  did  not 
wish,  indeed,  to  see  him,  but  she  wished  to  know  how 
he  felt  warranted  in  calling  in  the  evening,  and  it  was 
this  unworthy  curiosity  which  she  stifled  for  that  lux 
urious  moment.  The  next,  with  undiminished  dignity, 
she  said,  "Ask  him  to  come  up,  Andrew,"  and  she 
waited  in  the  library  for  him  to  offer  a  justification 
of  the  liberty  he  had  taken. 

He  offered  none  whatever,  but  behaved  at  once  as 
if  he  had  always  had  the  habit  of  calling  in  the  even 
ing,  or  as  if  it  was  a  general  custom  which  he  need 
not  account  for  in  his  own  case.  He  brought  her  a 
book  which  they  had  talked  of  at  their  last  meeting, 
but  he  made  no  excuse  or  pretext  of  it. 

He  said  it  was  a  beautiful  night,  and  that  he  had 
found  it  rather  warm  walking  in  from  Cambridge. 
The  exercise  had  moistened  his  whole  rich,  red  color, 
and  fine  drops  of  perspiration  stood  on  his  clean-shav 
en  upper-lip  and  in  the  hollow  between  his  under-lip 
and  his  bold  chin ;  he  pushed  back  the  coarse,  dark- 
yellow  hair  from  his  forehead  with  his  handkerchief, 
and  let  his  eyes  mock  her  from  under  his  thick,  straw- 
colored  eyebrows.  She  knew  that  he  was  enjoying 
his  own  impudence,  and  he  was  so  handsome  that  she 
could  not  refuse  to  enjoy  it  with  him.  She  asked  him 
if  he  would  not  have  a  fan,  and  he  allowed  her  to  get 
it  for  him  from  the  mantel.  "Will  you  have  some 
tea?" 

"  No ;  but  a  glass  of  water,  if  you  please,"  he  said, 


328  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

and  Bessie  rang  and  sent  for  some  Apollinaris,  which 
Jeff  drank  a  great  goblet  of  when  it  came.  Then  he 
lay  back  in  the  deep  chair  he  had  taken,  with  the  air 
of  being  ready  for  any  little  amusing  thing  she  had 
to  say. 

"  Are  you  still  a  pessimist,  Mr.  Durgin  ? "  she  asked, 
tentatively,  with  the  effect  of  innocence  that  he  knew 
meant  mischief. 

"  No,"  he  said.     "  I'm  a  reformed  optimist." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  It's  a  man  who  can't  believe  all  the  good  he  would 
like,  but  likes  to  believe  all  the  good  he  can." 

Bessie  said  it  over,  with  burlesque  thoughtfulness 
"  There  was  a  girl  here  to-day,"  she  said,  solemnly, 
"  who  must  have  been  a  reformed  pessimist,  then,  for 
she  said  the  same  thing." 

"  Oh  !     Miss  Enderby,"  said  Jeff. 

Bessie  started.  "  You're  preternatural !  But  what 
a  pity  you  should  be  mistaken.  How  came  you  to 
think  of  her?" 

"  She  doesn't  like  me,  and  you  always  put  me  on 
trial  after  she's  been  here." 

"  Am  I  putting  you  on  trial  now  ?  It's  your  guilty 
conscience!  Why  shouldn't  Mary  Enderby  like 
you  ? " 

"Because  I'm  not  good  enough." 

"  Oh  !  And  what  has  that  to  do  with  people's  lik 
ing  you  ?  If  that  was  a  reason,  how  many  friends  do 
you  think  you  would  have  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  I  should  have  any." 

"  And  doesn't  that  make  you  feel  badly  ? " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  329 

"  Very."     Jeff's  confession  was  a  smiling  one. 

"You  don't  show  it!  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  grieve  you." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  sure  that  would  grieve  me." 

"  Well,  I  thought  I  wouldn't  risk  it." 

"  How  considerate  of  you  !  " 

They  had  come  to  a  little  barrier,  up  that  way,  and 
could  go  no  further.  Jeff  said,  "  I've  just  been  inter 
viewing  another  reformed  pessimist." 

"Mr.  We  stover?" 

"  You're  preternatural,  too.  And  you're  not  mis 
taken,  either.  Do  you  ever  go  to  his  studio  ? " 

"No;  1  haven't  been  there  since  he  told  me  it 
would  be  of  no  use  to  come  as  a  student.  He  can  be 
terribly  frank." 

"  Nobody  knows  that  better  than  I  do,"  said  Jeff, 
with  a  smile  for  the  notion  of  W'estover's  frankness 
as  he  had  repeatedly  experienced  it.  "  But  he  means 
well." 

"  Oh,  that's  what  they  always  say.  But  all  the 
frankness  can't  be  well  meant.  Why  should  uncandor 
be  the  only  form  of  malevolence  ? " 

"  That's  a  good  idea.  I  believe  I'll  put  that  up  on 
Westover  the  next  time  he's  frank." 

"  And  will  you  tell  me  what  he  says  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that."  Jeff  lay  back  in 
his  chair  at  large  ease  and  chuckled.  "  I  should  like 
to  tell  you  what  he's  just  been  saying  to  me,  but  I 
don't  believe  I  can." 

"Do!" 

"  You  know  he  was  up  at  Lion's  Head  in  February, 


330  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

and  got  a  winter  impression  of  the  mountain.  Did 
you  see  it  ?  " 

"  No.     Was  that  what  you  were  talking  about  ?  " 

"  We  talked  about  something  a  great  deal  more  in 
teresting — the  impression  he  got  of  me." 

"  Winter  impression  ? " 

"  Cold  enough.  He  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  I  was  very  selfish  and  unworthy;  that  I  used 
other  people  for  my  own  advantage,  or  let  them  use 
themselves;  that  I  was  treacherous  and  vindictive,  and 
if  I  didn't  betray  a  man  I  couldn't  be  happy  till  I  had 
beaten  him.  He  said  that  if  I  ever  behaved  well,  it 
came  after  I  had  been  successful  one  way  or  the 
other." 

"  How  perfectly  fascinating !  "  Bessie  rested  her 
elbow  on  the  corner  of  the  table,  and  her  chin  in  the 
palm  of  the  hand  whose  thin  fingers  tapped  her  red 
lips  ;  the  light  sleeve  fell  down  and  showed  her  pretty, 
lean  little  forearm.  "  Did  it  strike  you  as  true,  at  all  ?  " 

"  I  could  see  how  it  might  strike  him  as  true." 

"  Now  you  are  candid.  But  go  on  !  What  did  he 
expect  you  to  do  about  it  ? " 

"  Nothing.  He  said  he  didn't  suppose  I  could  help 
it." 

"  This  is  immense,"  said  Bessie.  "  I  hope  I'm 
taking  it  all  in.  How  came  he  to  give  you  this  flat 
tering  little  impression  ?  So  hopeful,  too  !  Or,  per 
haps  your  frankness  doesn't  go  any  farther  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  saying.  He  seemed  to  think  it 
was  a  sort  of  abstract  duty  he  owed  to  my  people." 

"  Your— folks  ? "  asked  Bessie. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  331 

"  Yes,"  said  Jeff,  with  a  certain  dryness.  But  as 
her  face  looked  blankly  innocent,  lie  must  have  de 
cided  that  she  meant  nothing  offensive.  He  relaxed 
into  a  broad  smile.  It's  a  queer  household  up  there, 
in  the  winter.  I  wonder  what  you  would  think  of  it." 

"  You  might  describe  it  to  me,  and  perhaps  we  shall 
see." 

"  You  couldn't  realize  it,"  said  Jeff,  with  a  finality 
that  piqued  her.  He  reached  out  for  the  bottle  of 
Apollinaris,  with  somehow  the  effect  of  being  in  anoth 
er  student's  room,  and  poured  himself  a  glass.  This 
would  have  amused  her,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  but  the 
tenth  time  had  come  when  she  chose  to  resent  it. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said,  "  you  are  all  very  much  ex 
cited  about  Class  Day  at  Cambridge." 

"  That  sounds  like  a  remark  made  to  open  the  way 
to  conversation."  Jeff  went  on  to  burlesque  a  reply 
in  the  same  spirit.  "  Oh,  very  much  so  indeed,  Miss 
Lynde  !  We  are  all  looking  forward  to  it  so  eagerly. 
Are  you  coming  ? " 

She  rejected  his  lead  with  a  slight  sigh  so  skilfully 
drawn  that  it  deceived  him  when  she  said,  gravely  : 
"  I  don't  know.  It's  apt  to  be  a  very  baffling  time  at 
the  best.  All  the  men  that  you  like  are  taken  up  with 
their  own  people,  and  even  the  men  that  you  don't 
like  over-value  themselves,  and  think  they're  doing 
you  a  favor  if  they  give  you  a  turn  at  the  Gym  or 
bring  you  a  plate  of  something." 

"Well,  they  are,  aren't  they?" 

"  I  suppose,  yes,  that's  what  makes  me  hate  it. 
One  doesn't  like  to  have  such  men  do  one  a  favor. 


332  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

And  then,  Juniors  get  younger  every  year  !  Even  a 
nice  Junior  is  only  a  Junior,"  she  concluded,  with  a 
sad  fall  of  her  mocking  voice." 

"  I  don't  believe  there's  a  Senior  in  Harvard  that 
wouldn't  forsake  his  family  and  come  to  the  rescue  if 
your  feelings  could  be  known,"  said  Jeff.  He  lifted 
the  bottle  at  his  elbow  and  found  it  empty,  and  this 
seemed  to  remind  him  to  rise. 

"Don't  make  them  known,  please,"  said  Bessie. 
"  I  shouldn't  want  an  ovation."  She  sat,  after  he  had 
risen,  as  if  she  wished  to  detain  him,  but  when  he 
came  up  to  take  leave  she  had  to  put  her  hand  in  his. 
She  looked  at  it  there,  and  so  did  he ;  it  seemed  very 
little  and  slim,  about  one-third  the  size  of  his  palm, 
and  it  seemed  to  go  to  nothing  in  his  grasp.  "  / 
should  think,"  she  added,  "  that  the  jays  wonld  have 
the  best  time  on  Class  Day.  I  should  like  to  dance 
at  one  of  their  spreads,  and  do  everything  they  did. 
It  would  be  twice  the  fun,  and  there  would  be  some 
nature  in  it.  I  should  like  to  see  a  jay  Class  Day." 

"  If  you'll  come  out,  I'll  show  you  one,"  said  Jeff, 
without  wincing. 

"  Oh,  will  you  ? "  she  said,  taking  away  her  hand. 
"  That  would  be  delightful.  But  what  would  become 
of  your — folks  ? "  She  caught  a  corner  of  her  mouth 
with  her  teeth,  as  if  the  word  had  slipped  out. 

"  Do  you  call  them  folks  ? "  asked  Jeff,  quietly. 

"  I — supposed —     Don't  you  ? " 

"  Not  in  Boston.     I  do  at  Lion's  Head." 

"Oh!     Well— people." 

"  I  don't  know  as  they're  coming." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  333 

"How  delightful!  I  don't  mean  that;  but  if 
they're  not,  and  if  you  really  kneiv  some  jays,  and 
could  get  me  a  little  glimpse  of  their  Class  Day— 

"  I  think  I  could  manage  it  for  you."  He  spoke  as 
before,  but  he  looked  at  her  with  a  mockery  in  his  lips 
and  eyes  as  intelligent  as  her  own,  and  the  latent 
change  in  his  mood  gave  her  the  sense  of  being  in  the 
presence  of  a  vivid  emotion.  She  rose  in  her  excite 
ment  ;  she  could  see  that  he  admired  her,  and  was  en 
joying  her  insolence  too,  in  a  way,  though  in  a  way 
that  she  did  not  think  she  quite  understood ;  and  she 
had  the  wish  to  make  him  admire  her  a  little  more. 

She  let  a  light  of  laughter  come  into  her  eyes,  of 
harmless  mischief  played  to  an  end.  "  I  don't  de 
serve  your  kindness,  and  I  won't  come.  I've  been 
very  wicked,  don't  you  think  ? " 

" Not  very — for  you"  said  Jeff. 

"  Oh,  how  good!  "  she  broke  out.  "  But  be  frank 
now  !  I've  offended  you." 

"  How  ?  I  know  I'm  a  jay,  and  in  the  country  I've 
got  folks." 

"Ah,  I  see  you're  hurt  at  my  joking,  and  I'm 
awfully  sorry.  I  wish  there  was  some  way  of  making 
you  forgive  me.  But  it  couldn't  be  that  alone,"  she 
went  on  rather  aimlessly  as  to  her  words,  trusting  to 
his  answer  for  some  leading,  and  willing  meanwhile 
to  prolong  the  situation  for  the  effect  in  her  nerves. 
It  had  been  a  very  dull  and  tedious  day,  and  she  was 
finding  much  more  than  she  could  have  expected  in 
the  mingled  fear  and  slight  which  he  inspired  her  with 
in  such  singular  measure.  These  feminine  subtleties 


334:  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

of  motive  are  beyond  any  but  the  finest  natures  in  the 
other  sex,  and  perhaps  all  that  Jeff  perceived  was  the 
note  of  insincerity  in  her  words. 

"  Couldn't  be  what  alone  ? "  he  asked. 
"  What  I've  said,"  she  ventured,  letting  her  eyes 
fall ;  but  they  were  not  eyes  that  fell  effectively,  and 
she  instantly  lifted  them  again  to  his. 

"  You  haven't  said  anything,  and  if  you've  thought 
anything,  what  have  I  got  to  do  with  that  ?  I  think 
all  sorts  of  things  about  people — or  folks,  as  you  call 
them—" 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !    Now  you  are  forgiving  me  !  " 
"  I  think  them  about  you — "    " 
"  Oh,  do  sit  down  and  tell  me  the  kind  of  things 
you  think  about  me  !  "  Bessie  implored,  sinking  back 
1  into  her  chair. 

"You  mightn't  like  them." 
"  But  if  they  would  do  me  good  ?  " 
"  What  should  I  want  to  do  you  good  for  ? " 
"  That's  true,"  sighed  Bessie,  thoughtfully. 
«  People— folks— " 
"  Thank  you  so  much  !  " 

"  Don't  try  to  do  each  other  good,  unless  they're 
cranks  like  Lancaster,  or  bores  like  Mrs.  Bevidge — " 
"  You  belong  to  the  analytical  school  of  Seniors ! 
Go  on  !  " 

"  That's  all,"  said  Jeff. 

"  And  you  don't  think  I've  tried  to  do  you  good  ? " 
He  laughed.      Her  comedy  was  delicious  to  him. 
He  had  never  found  anybody  so  amusing ;  he  almost 
respected  her  for  it. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  335 

"  If  that  is  your  opinion  of  me,  Mr.  Durgin,"  she 
said,  very  gravely,  "  I  am  sorry.  May  I  remark  that 
I  don't  see  why  you  come,  then  ? " 

"  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Jeff,  and  he  advanced  upon 
her  where  she  sat  so  abruptly  that  she  started  and 
shrank  back  in  her  chair.  "  I  come  because  you've 
got  brains,  and  you're  the  only  girl  that  has — here." 
They  were  Alan's  words,  almost  his  words,  and  for  an 
instant  she  thought  of  her  brother,  and  wondered 
what  he  would  think  of  this  jay's  praising  her  in  his 
terms.  "Because,"  Jeff  went  on,  "you've  got  more 
sense — and  nonsense — than  all  the  women  here  put 
together.  Because  it's  better  than  a  play  to  hear  you 
talk — and  act ;  and  because  you're  graceful — and  fas 
cinating,  and  chic,* and —  Good-night,  Miss  Lynde." 

He  put  out  his  hand,  but  she  did  not  take  it  as  she 
rose  haughtily.  "  We've  said  good-night  once.  I 
prefer  to  say  good-by  this  time.  I'm  sure  you  will 
understand  why  after  this  I  cannot  see  you  again." 
She  seemed  to  examine  him  for  the  effect  of  these 
words  upon  him  before  she  went  on. 

"  No,  I  don't  understand,"  he  answered,  coolly ; 
"  but  it  isn't  necessary  I  should ;  and  I'm  quite  will 
ing  to  say  good-by,  if  you  prefer.  You  haven't  been 
so  frank  with  me  as  I  have  with  you ;  but  that  doesn't 
make  any  difference ;  perhaps  you  never  meant  to  be, 
or  couldn't  be,  if  you  meant.  Good-by."  He  bowed 
and  turned  towards  the  door. 

She  fluttered  between  him  and  it.  "I  wish  to 
know  what  you  accuse  me  of ! " 

"  I  ?     Nothing." 


336  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  You  imply  that  I  have  been  unjust  towards  you.' 

"  Oh,  no!" 

"  And  I  can't  let  you  go  till  you  prove  it." 

"  Prove  to  a  woman  that —  Will  you  let  me  pass  ? " 

"  No  !  "  She  spread  her  slender  arms  across  the 
doorway. 

"  Oh,  very  well !  "  Jeff  took  her  hands  and  put 
them  both  in  the  hold  of  one*  of  his  large,  strong 
hands.  Then,  with  the  contact,  it  came  to  him,  from 
a  varied  experience  of  girls  in  his  rustic  past,  that  this 
young  lady,  who  was  nothing  but  a  girl  after  all,  was 
playing  her  comedy  with  a  certain  purpose,  however 
little  she  might  know  it  or  own  it.  He  put  his  other 
large,  strong  hand  upon  her  waist,  and  pulled  her  to 
him  and  kissed  her.  Another  sort  of  man,  no  matter 
what  he  had  believed  of  her,  would  have  felt  his  act 
a  sacrilege  then  and  there.  Jeff  only  knew  that  she 
had  not  made  the  faintest  struggle  against  him ;  she 
had  even  trembled  towards  him,  and  he  brutally  ex 
ulted  in  the  belief  that  he  had  done  what  she  wished, 
whether  it  was  what  she  meant  or  not. 

She,  for  her  part,  realized  that  she  had  been  kissed 
as  once  she  had  happened  to  see  one  of  the  maids 
kissed  by  the  grocer's  boy  at  the  basement  door.  In 
an  instant  this  man  had  abolished  all  her  defences  of 
family,  of  society,  of  personality,  and  put  himself  on 
a  level  with  her  in  the  most  sacred  things  of  life.  Her 
mind  grasped  the  fact  and  she  realized  it  intellectu 
ally,  while  as  yet  all  her  emotions  seemed  paralyzed. 
She  did  not  know  whether  she  resented  it  as  an  abom 
inable  outrage  or  not;  whether  she  hated  the  man  for 


WILL  YOU   LET  ME   PASS?'" 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  337 

it  or  not.  But  perhaps  he  was  in  love  with  her,  and 
his  love  overpowered  him ;  in  that  case  she  could  for 
give  him,  if  she  were  in  love  with  him.  She  asked 
herself  whether  she  was,  and  whether  she  had  betrayed 
herself  to  him  so  that  he  was  somehow  warranted  in 
what  he  did.  She  wondered  if  another  sort  of  man 
would  have  done  it,  a  gentleman,  who  believed  she 
was  in  love  with  him.  She  wondered  if  she  were  as 
much  shocked  as  she  was  astonished.  She  knew  that 
there  was  everything  in  the  situation  to  make  the  fact 
shocking,  but  she  got  no  distinct  reply  from  her  jarred 
consciousness. 

It  ought  to  be  known,  and  known  at  once;  she 
ought  to  tell  her  brother,  as  soon  as  she  saw  him ;  she 
thought  of  telling  her  aunt,  and  she  fancied  having  to 
shout  the  affair  into  her  ear,  and  having  to  repeat, 
"  He  kissed  me  !  Don't  you  understand  ?  Kissed 
me  !  "  Then  she  reflected  with  a  start  that  she  could 
never  tell  any  one,  that  in  the  midst  of  her  world  she 
was  alone  in  relation  to  this ;  she  was  as  helpless  and 
friendless  as  the  poorest  and  lowliest  girl  could  be. 
She  was  more  so,  for  if  she  were  like  the  maid  whom 
the  grocer's  boy  kissed  she  would  be  of  an  order  of 
things  in  which  she  could  advise  with  some  one  else 
who  had  been  kissed ;  and  she  would  know  what  to 
feel. 

She  asked  herself  whether  she  was  at  all  moved  at 
heart ;  till  now  it  seemed  to  her  that  it  had  not  been 
different  with  her  towards  him  from  what  it  had  been 
towards  all  the  other  men  whose  meaning  she  would 
have  liked  to  find  out.  She  had  not  in  the  least  re- 
V 


338  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

spected  them,  and  she  did  not  respect  him  ;  but  if  it 
happened  because  he  was  overcome  by  his  love  for 
her,  and  could  not  help  it,  then  perhaps  she  must  for 
give  him  whether  she  cared  for  him  or  not. 

These  ideas  presented  themselves  with  the  simul 
taneity  of  things  in  a  dream  in  that  instant  when  she 
lingered  helplessly  in  his  hold,  and  she  even  wondered 
if  by  any  chance  Andrew  had  seen  them  ;  but  she 
heard  his  step  on  the  floor  below ;  and  at  the  same 
time  it  appeared  to  her  that  she  must  be  in  love  with 
this  man  if  she  did  not  resent  what  he  had  done. 


XLIII. 

WESTOVER  was  sitting  at  an  open  window  of  his 
studio  smoking-  out  into  the  evening  air,  and  looking 
down  into  the  thinly  foliaged  tops  of  the  public  gar 
den,  where  the  electrics  fainted  and  flushed  and  hissed. 
Cars  trooped  by  in  the  troubled  street,  scraping  the 
wires  overhead  that  screamed  as  if  with  pain  at  the 
touch  of  their  trolleys,  and  kindling  now  and  again  a 
soft  planet,  as  the  trolleys  struck  the  batlike  plates 
that  connected  the  crossing  lines.  The  painter  was 
getting  almost  as  much  pleasure  out  of  the  planets  as 
pain  out  of  the  screams,  and  he  was  in  an  after-dinner 
languor  in  which  he  was  very  reluctant  to  recognize  a 
step,  which  he  thought  he  knew,  on  his  stairs  and  his 
stairs-landing.  A  knock  at  his  door  followed  the 
sound  of  the  approaching  steps.  He  lifted  himself, 
and  called  out  inhospitably,  "  Come  in  ! "  and,  as  he 
expected,  Jeff  Durgin  came  in.  Westover's  meetings 
with  him  had  been  an  increasing  discomfort  since  his 
return  from  Lion's  Head.  The  uneasiness  which  he 
commonly  felt  at  the  first  moment  of  encounter  with 
him  yielded  less  and  less  to  the  influence  of  Jeff's 
cynical  bonhomie,  and  it  returned  in  force  as  soon  as 
they  parted. 


34O  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

It  was  rather  dim  in  the  place,  except  for  the  light 
thrown  up  into  it  from  the  turmoil  of  lights  outside, 
but  he  could  see  that  there  was  nothing  of  the  smiling 
mockery  on  Jeff's  face  which  habitually  expressed  his 
inner  hardihood.  It  was  a  frowning  mockery. 

"  Hello  ! "  said  Westover. 

"  Hello ! "  answered  Jeff.  "  Any  commands  for 
Lion's  Head?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  I'm  going  up  there  to-morrow.  IVe  got  to  see 
Cynthia,  and  tell  her  what  I've  been  doing." 

Westover  waited  a  moment  before  he  asked,  "Do 
you  want  me  to  ask  what  you've  been  doing  ? " 

"  I  shouldn't  mind  it." 

The  painter  paused  again.  "  I  don't  know  that  I 
care  to  ask.  Is  it  any  good  ? " 

"  No ! "  shouted  Jeff.  "  It's  the  worst  thing  yet,  I 
guess  you'll  think.  I  couldn't  have  believed  it  my 
self,  if  I  hadn't  been  through  it.  I  shouldn't  have 
supposed  I  was  such  a  fool.  I  don't  care  for  the  girl ; 
I  never  did." 

"Cynthia?" 

"  Cynthia  ?  No  !  Miss  Lynde.  Oh,  try  to  take  it 
in  ! "  Jeff  cried,  with  a  laugh  at  the  daze  in  Westover's 
face.  "  You  must  have  known  about  the  flirtation  ;  if 
you  haven't,  you're  the  only  one."  His  vanity  in  the 
fact  betrayed  itself  in  his  voice.  "  It  came  to  a  crisis 
last  week,  and  we  tried  to  make  each  other  believe 
that  we  were  in  earnest.  But  there  won't  be  any  real 
love  lost." 

Westover  did  not  speak.     He  could  not  make  out 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  341 

whether  he  was  surprised  or  whether  he  was  shocked, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  neither  surprised 
nor  shocked.  He  wondered  whether  he  had  really 
expected  something  of  the  kind,  sooner  or  later,  or 
whether  he  was  not  always  so  apprehensive  of  some 
deviltry  in  Durgin  that  nothing  he  did  could  quite 
take  him  unawares.  At  last  he  said  :  "  I  suppose  it's 
true — even  though  you  say  it.  It's  probably  the  only 
truth  in  you." 

"  That's  something  like,"  said  Jeff,  as  if  the  con 
tempt  gave  him  a  sort  of  pleasure ;  and  his  heavy  face 
lighted  up  and  then  darkened  again. 

"  Well,"  said  AVestover,  "  what  are  we  going  to  do  ? 
You've  come  to  tell  me." 

"  I'm  going  to  break  with  her.  I  don't  care  for  her 
— that !  "  He  snapped  his  fingers.  "  I  told  her  I 
cared  because  she  provoked  me  to.  It  happened  be 
cause  she  wanted  it  to  and  led  up  to  it." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Westover.  "  You  put  it  on  her  !  " 
But  he  waited  for  Durgin's  justification  with  a  dread 
that  he  should  find  something  in  it. 

"  Pshaw !  What's  the  use  ?  It's  been  a  game  from 
the  beginning,  and  a  question  which  should  win.  / 
won.  She  meant  to  throw  me  over,  if  the  time  came 
for  her,  but  it  came  for  me  first,  and  it's  only  a  ques 
tion  now  which  shall  break  first ;  we've  both  been  near 
it  once  or  twice  already.  I  don't  mean  she  shall  get 
the  start  of  me." 

Westover  had  a  glimpse  of  the  innate  enmity  of  the 
sexes  in  this  game ;  of  its  presence  in  passion  that  was 
lived  and  of  its  prevalence  in  passion  that  was  played. 


342  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION;S    HEAD. 

But  the  fate  of  neither  gambler  concerned  him  ;  he  was 
impatient  of  his  interest  in  what  Jeff  now  went  on  to 
tell  him,  without  scruple  concerning  her,  or  palliation 
of  himself.  He  scarcely  realized  that  he  was  listening, 
but  afterwards  he  remembered  it  all,  with  a  little  pity 
for  Bessie  and  none  for  Jeff,  but  with  more  shame  for 
her,  too.  Love  seems  more  sacredly  confided  to  women 
than  to  men ;  it  is  and  must  be  a  higher  and  finer  as 
well  as  a  holier  thing  with  them ;  their  blame  for  its 
betrayal  must  always  be  the  heavier.  He  had  some 
times  suspected  Bessie's  willingness  to  amuse  herself 
with  Jeff,  as  with  any  other  man  who  would  let  her 
play  with  him  ;  and  he  would  not  have  relied  upon 
anything  in  him  to  defeat  her  purpose,  if  it  had  been 
anything  so  serious  as  a  purpose. 

At  the  end  of  Durgin's  story  he  merely  asked: 
"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  Cynthia  ? " 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  her,"  said  Jeff.  "  That's  what 
I  am  going  up  there  for." 

Westover  rose,  but  Jeff  remained  sitting  where  he 
had  put  himself  astride  of  a  chair,  with  his  face  over 
the  back.  The  painter  walked  slowly  up  and  down 
before  him  in  the  capricious  play  of  the  street  light. 
He  turned  a  little  sick,  and  he  stopped  a  moment  at 
the  window  for  a  breath  of  air. 

"Well?"  asked  Jeff. 

"  Oh  !  You  want  my  advice  ? "  Westover  still 
felt  physically  incapable  of  the  indignation  which  he 
strongly  imagined.  "  I  don't  know  what  to  say  to 
you,  Durgin  ?  You  transcend  my  powers.  Are  you 
able  to  see  this  whole  thing  yourself  ? " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  343 

"  I  guess  so,"  Jeff  answered.  "  I  don't  idealize  it, 
though.  I  look  at  the  facts  ;  they're  bad  enough.  You 
don't  suppose  that  Miss  Lynde  is  going  to  break  her 
heart  over — " 

"  I  don't  believe  I  care  for  Miss  Lynde  any  more 
than  I  care  for  you.  But  I  believe  I  wish  you  were 
not  going  to  break  with  her." 

"  Why  ? " 

"  Because  you  and  she  arc  fit  for  each  other.  If 
you  want  ray  advice,  I  advise  you  to  be  true  to  her — 
if  you  can." 

"And  Cynthia?" 

"Break  with  her" 

"  Oh !  "     Jeff  gave  a  snort  of  derision. 

"  You're  not  fit  for  her.  You  couldn't  do  a  crueler 
thing  for  her  than  to  keep  faith  with  her." 

"Do  you  mean  it?" 

"  Yes,  I  mean  it.  Stick  to  Miss  Lynde — if  she'll 
let  you." 

Jeff  seemed  puzzled  by  Westover's  attitude,  which 
was  either  too  sincere  or  too  ironical  for  him.  He 
pushed  his  hat,  which  he  had  kept  on,  back  from  his 
forehead.  "  Damned  if  I  don't  believe  she  would," 
he  mused  aloud.  The  notion  seemed  to  flatter  him 
and  repay  him  for  what  he  must  have  been  suffering. 
He  smiled,  but  he  said:  "  She  wouldn't  do,  even  if 
she  were  any  good.  Cynthia  is  worth  a  million  of  her. 
If  she  wants  to  give  me  up  after  she  knows  all  about 
me,  well  and  good.  I  sha'n't  blame  her.  But  I  shall 
give  her  a  fair  chance,  and  I  sha'n't  whitewash  my 
self;  you  needn't  be  afraid  of  that,  Mr.  Westover." 


344  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Why  should  I  care  what  you  do  ? "  asked  the 
painter,  scornfully. 

"  Well,  you  can't,  on  my  account,"  Durgin  allowed. 
"  But  you  do  care  on  her  account." 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Westover,  sitting  down  again, 
and  he  did  not  say  anything  more. 

Durgin  waited  a  long  while  for  him  to  speak  before 
he  asked,  "  Then  that's  really  your  advice,  is  it  ? " 

"  Yes,  break  with  her." 

"  And  stick  to  Miss  Lynde." 

"  If  she'll  let  you." 

Jeff  was  silent  in  his  turn.  He  started  from  his 
silence  with  a  laugh.  "  She'd  make  a  daisy  landlady 
for  Lion's  Head.  I  believe  she  would  like  to  try  it 
awhile  just  for  the  fun.  But  after  the  ball  was  over 
— well,  it  would  be  a  good  joke,  if  it  was  a  joke. 
Cynthia  is  a  woman — she  a'n't  any  corpse-light.  She 
understands  me,  and  she  don't  overrate  me  either. 
She  knew  just  how  much  I  was  worth,  and  she  took 
me  at  her  own  valuation.  I've  got  my  way  in  life 
marked  out,  and  she  believes  in  it  as  much  as  I  do. 
If  anybody  can  keep  me  level  and  make  the  best  of 
me,  she  can,  and  she's  going  to  have  the  chance,  if 
she  wants  to.  I'm  going  to  act  square  with  her  about 
the  whole  thing.  I  guess  she's  the  best  judge  in  a 
case  like  this,  and  I  shall  lay  the  whole  case  before 
her,  don't  you  be  afraid  of  that.  And  she's  got  to 
have  a  free  field.  Why,  even  if  there  wa'n't  any  ques 
tion  of  her,"  he  went  on,  falling  more  and  more  into 
his  vernacular,  "  I  don't  believe  I  should  care  in  the 
long-run  for  this  other  one.  We  couldn't  make  it  go 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  345 

for  any  time  at  all.  She  wants  excitement,  and  after 
the  summer  folks  began  to  leave,  and  we'd  been  to 
Florida  for  a  winter,  and  then  came  back  to  Lion's 
Head — well !  This  planet  hasn't  got  excitement 
enough  in  it  for  that  girl,  and  I  doubt  if  the  solar 
system  has.  At  any  rate,  I'm  not  going  to  act  as  ad 
vance-agent  for  her." 

"  I  see,"  said  Westover,  "  that  you've  been  reason 
ing  it  all  out,  and  I'm  not  surprised  that  you've  kept 
your  own  advantage  steadily  in  mind.  1  don't  sup 
pose  you  know  what  a  savage  you  are,  and  I  don't 
suppose  I  could  teach  you.  I  sha'n't  try,  at  any  rate. 
I'll  take  you  on  your  own  ground,  and  I  tell  you  again 
you  had  better  break  with  Cynthia.  I  won't  say  that 
it's  what  you  owe  her,  for  that  won't  have  any  effect 
with  you,  but  it's  what  you  owe  yourself.  You  can't 
do  a  wrong  thing  and  prosper  on  it — " 

"  Oh,  yes  you  can,"  Jeff  interrupted  with  a  sneer 
ing  laugh.  "  How  do  you  suppose  all  the  big  fortunes 
were  made  ?  By  keeping  the  commandments  ? " 

"No.  But  you're  an  unlucky  man  if  life  hasn't 
taught  you  that  you  must  pay  in  suffering  of  some 
kind,  sooner  or  later,  for  every  wrong  thing  you  do — " 

"  Now  that's  one  of  your  old-fashioned  supersti 
tions,  Mr.  Westover,"  said  Jeff,  with  a  growing  kind 
liness  in  his  tone,  as  if  the  pathetic  delusion  of  such 
a  man  really  touched  him.  "  You  pay,  or  you  don't 
pay,  just  as  it  happens.  If  you  get  hit  soon  after 
you've  done  wrong,  you  think  it's  retribution,  and  if 
it  holds  off  till  you've  forgotten  all  about  it,  you  think 
it's  a  strange  Providence,  and  you  puzzle  over  it,  but 


346  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

you  don't  reform.  You  keep  right  along  in  the  old 
way.  Prosperity  and  adversity,  they've  got  nothing 
to  do  with  conduct.  If  you're  a  strong  man,  you  get 
there,  and  if  you're  a  weak  man,  all  the  righteousness 
in  the  universe  won't  help  you.  But  I  propose  to  do 
what's  right  about  Cynthia,  and  not  what's  wrong; 
and  according  to  your  own  theory  of  life — which 
won't  hold  water  a  minute — I  ought  to  be  blessed  to 
the  third  and  fourth  generation.  I  don't  look  for 
that,  though.  I  shall  be  blessed  if  I  look  out  for  my 
self  ;  and  if  I  don't,  I  shall  suffer  for  my  want  of  fore 
sight.  But  I  sha'n't  suffer  for  anything  else.  Well, 
I'm  going  to  cut  some  of  my  recitations,  and  I'm  going 
up  to  Lion's  Head,  to-morrow,  to  settle  my  business 
with  Cynthia.  I've  got  a  little  business  to  look  after 
here  with  some  one  else  first,  and  I  guess  I  shall 
have  to  be  about  it.  I  don't  know  which  I  shall  like 
the  best."  He  rose,  and  went  over  to  where  West- 
over  was  sitting,  and  held  out  his  hand  to  him. 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  Westover. 

"  Any  commands  for  Lion's  Head  ? "  Jeff  said,  as  at 
first. 

"  No,"  said  Westover,  turning  his  face  away. 

"Oh,  all  right."     Durgin  put    his   hand  into    his 
pocket  unshaken. 


XLIV. 

"WHAT  is  it,  Jeff?"  asked  Cynthia,  the  next  night, 
as  they  started  out  together  after  supper,  and  began 
to  stroll  down  the  hill  towards  her  father's  house.  It 
lay  looking  very  little  and  low  in  the  nook  at  the  foot 
of  the  lane,  on  the  verge  of  the  woods  that  darkened 
away  to  the  northward  from  it,  under  the  glassy  night 
sky,  lit  with  the  spare  young  moon.  The  peeping  of 
the  frogs  in  the  marshy  places  filled  the  air ;  the 
hoarse  voice  of  the  brook  made  itself  heard  at  inter 
vals  through  them. 

"  It's  not  so  warm  here,  quite,  as  it  is  in  Boston," 
lie  returned.  "  Are  you  wrapped  up  enough  ?  This 
air  has  an  edge  to  it." 

"  I'm  all  right,"  said  the  girl.     "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  You  think  there's  something  ?  You  don't  believe 
I've  come  up  for  rest  over  Sunday  ?  I  guess  mother 
herself  didn't,  and  I  could  see  your  father  following 
up  my  little  lies  as  if  he  wa'n't  going  to  let  one  escape 
him.  Well,  you're  right.  There  is  something.  Think 
of  the  worst  thing  you  can,  Cynthy  !  " 

She  pulled  her  hand  out  of  his  arm,  which  she  had 


348  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

taken,  and  halted  him  by  her  abrupt  pause.  "  You're 
not  going  to  get  through  ! " 

"  I'm  all  right  on  my  conditions,"  said  Jeff,  with 
forlorn  derision.  "  You'll  have  to  guess  again."  He 
stood  looking  back  over  his  shoulder  at  her  face, 
which  showed  white  in  the  moonlight,  swathed  airily 
round  in  the  old-fashioned  soft  woollen  cloud  she 
wore. 

"  Is  it  some  trouble  you've  got  into  ?  I  shall  stand 
by  you ! " 

"  Oh,  you  splendid  girl !  The  trouble's  over,  but  it's 
something  you  can't  stand  by  me  in,  I  guess.  You 
know  that  girl  I  wrote  to  you  about — the  one  I  met 
at  the  college  tea,  and — " 

"  Yes  !     Miss  Lynde  !  " 

"  Come  on  !  We  can't  stay  here  talking.  Let's  go 
down  and  sit  on  your  porch."  She  mechanically 
obeyed  him,  and  they  started  on  together  down  the 
hill  again ;  but  she  did  not  offer  to  take  his  arm,  and 
he  kept  the  width  of  the  roadway  from  her. 

"What  about  her?"  she  quietly  asked. 

"  Last  night  I  ended  up  the  flirtation  I've  been  car 
rying  on  with  her  ever  since." 

"  I  want  to  know  just  what  you  mean,  Jeff." 

"  I  mean  that  last  week  I  got  engaged  to  her,  and 
last  night  I  broke  with  her."  Cynthia  seemed  to 
stumble  on  something ;  he  sprang  over  and  caught  her, 
and  now  she  put  her  hand  in  his  arm,  and  stayed  her 
self  by  him  as  they  walked. 

"  Go  on,"  she  said. 

"  That's  all  there  is  of  it." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  349 

"  No !  "  She  stopped,  and  then  she  asked  with  a 
kind  of  gentle  bewilderment,  "  AVhat  did  you  want  to 
tell  me  for  ?  " 

"  To  let  you  break  with  me — if  you  wanted  to." 

"  Don't  you  care  for  me  any  more  ? " 

"  Yes,  more  than  ever  I  did.  But  I'm  not  fit  for 
you,  Cynthia.  Mr.  Westover  said  I  wasn't.  I  told 
him  about  it — " 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  That  I  ought  to  break  with  you." 

"  But  if  you  broke  with  her  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  to  stick  to  her.  He  was  right  about 
you,  Cynthy.  I'm  not  fit  for  you,  and  that's  a  fact." 

"  What  was  it  about  that  girl  ?  Tell  me  every 
thing."  She  spoke  in  a  tone  of  plaintive  entreaty, 
very  unlike  the  command  she  once  used  with  Jeff  when 
she  was  urging  him  to  be  frank  with  her  and  true  to 
himself.  They  had  come  to  her  father's  house  and 
she  freed  her  hand  from  his  arm  again,  and  sat  down 
on  the  step  before  the  side  door  with  a  little  sigh  as 
of  fatigue. 

"  You'll  take  cold,"  said  Jeff,  who  remained  on  foot 
in  front  of  her. 

"  No,"  she  said,  briefly.     "Go  on." 

"Why,"  Jeff  began,  harshly,  and  with  a  note  of 
scorn  for  himself  and  his  theme  in  his  voice,  "  there 
isn't  any  more  of  it,  but  there's  no  end  to  her.  I 
promised  Mr.  Westover  I  shouldn't  whitewash  myself, 
and  I  sha'n't.  I've  been  behaving  badly,  and  it's  no 
excuse  for  me  because  she  wanted  me  to.  I  began  to 
go  for  her  as  soon  as  I  saw  that  she  wanted  me  to, 


350  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

and  that  she  liked  the  excitement.  The  excitement  is 
all  that  she  cared  for ;  she  didn't  care  for  me  except 
for  the  excitement  of  it.  She  thought  she  could  have 
fun  with  me,  and  then  throw  me  over;  but  I  guess  she 
found  her  match.  You  couldn't  understand  such  a 
girl,  and  I  don't  brag  of  it.  All  she  cared  for  was  to 
flirt  with  me,  and  she  liked  it  all  the  more  because  I 
was  a  jay  and  she  could  get  something  new  out  of  it. 
I  can't  explain  it ;  but  I  could  see  it  right  along.  She 
fooled  herself  more  than  she  fooled  me." 

"  Was  she — very  good-looking  ?  "  Cynthia  asked, 
listlessly. 

"  No  !  "  shouted  Jeff.  "  She  wasn't  good-looking  at 
all.  She  was  dark  and  thin,  and  she  had  little  slant 
ing  eyes ;  but  she  was  graceful,  and  she  knew  how  to 
make  herself  go  further  than  any  girl  I  ever  saw.  If 
she  came  into  a  room,  she  made  you  look  at  her,  or 
you  had  to  somehow.  She  was  bright  too ;  and  she 
had  more  sense  than  all  the  other  girls  there  put  to 
gether.  But  she  was  a  fool,  all  the  same."  Jeff 
paused.  u  Is  that  enough  ? " 

"  It  isn't  all." 

"  No,  it  isn't  all.  We  didn't  meet  much  at  first, 
but  I  got  to  walking  home  with  her  from  some  teas ; 
and  then  we  met  at  a  big  ball.  I  danced  with  her 
the  whole  while  nearly,  and — and  I  took  her  brother 
home —  Pshaw  !  He  was  drunk ;  and  I — well,  he 
had  got  drunk  drinking  with  me  at  the  ball.  The 
wine  didn't  touch  me,  but  it  turned  his  head ;  and  I 
took  him  home ;  he's  a  drunkard,  anyway.  She  let  us 
in  when  we  got  to  their  house,  and  that  kind  of  made 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  351 

a  tic  between  us.  She  pretended  to  think  she  was 
under  obligations  to  me,  and  so  I  got  to  going  to  her 
house." 

"  Did  she  know  how  her  brother  got  drunk?  " 

"  She  does  now.     I  told  her  last  night." 

"  How  came  you  to  tell  her  ?  " 

"  I  wanted  to  break  with  her.  I  wanted  to  stop  it, 
once  for  all,  and  I  thought  that  would  do  it,  if  any 
thing  would." 

"  Did  that  make  her  willing  to  give  you  up  ? " 

Jeff  checked  himself  in  a  sort  of  retrospective  laugh. 
"  I'm  not  so  sure.  I  guess  she  liked  the  excitement 
of  that,  too.  You  couldn't  understand  the  kind  of 
girl  she —  She  wanted  to  flirt  with  me  that  night  I 
brought  him  home  tipsy." 

"  I  don't  care  to  hear  any  more  about  her.  Why 
did  you  give  her  up  ?  " 

"Because  I  didn't  care  for  her,  and  I  did  care  for 
you,  Cynthy." 

"  I  don't  believe  it."  Cynthia  rose  from  the  step, 
where  she  had  been  sitting,  as  if  with  renewed 
strength.  "  Go  up  and  tell  father  to  come  down  here. 
I  want  to  see  him."  She  turned  and  put  her  hand  on 
the  latch  of  the  door. 

"  You're  not  going  in  there,  Cynthia,"  said  Jeff. 
"  It  must  be  like  death  in  there." 

"  It's  more  like  death  out  here.  But  if  it's  the  cold 
you  mean,  you  needn't  be  troubled.  We've  had  a  fire 
to-day,  airing  out  the  house.  Will  you  go  ?  " 

"  But  what  do  you — what  are  you  going  to  say  to 
me?" 


352  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  I  don't  know,  yet.  If  I  said  anything  now,  I 
should  tell  you  what  Mr.  Westover  did:  go  back  to 
that  girl,  if  she'll  let  you.  You're  fit  for  each  other, 
as  he  said.  -Did  you  tell  her  that  you  were  engaged 
to  some  one  else?  " 

"  I  did,  last  night." 

"But  before  that  she  didn't  know  how  false  you 
were.  Well,  you're  not  fit  for  her,  then ;  you're  not 
good  enough." 

She  opened  the  door  and  went  in,  closing  it  after 
her.  Jeff  turned  and  walked  slowly  away;  then  he 
came  quickly  back,  as  if  he  were  going  to  follow  her 
within.  But  through  the  window  he  saw  her  as  she 
stood  by  the  table  with  a  lamp  in  her  hand.  She  had 
turned  up  the  light,  which  shone  full  in  her  face  and 
revealed  its  severe  beauty  broken  and  writhen  with  the 
effort  to  repress  her  weeping.  He  might  not  have 
minded  the  severity  or  the  beauty,  but  the  pathos  was 
more  than  he  could  stand.  "  Oh,  Lord !  "  he  said, 
with  a  shrug,  and  he  turned  again  and  walked  slowly 
up  the  hill. 

When  Whitwell  faced  his  daughter  in  the  little  sit 
ting-room,  whose  low  ceiling  his  hat  almost  touched 
as  he  stood  before  her,  the  storm  had  passed  with  her, 
and  her  tear-drenched  visage  wore  its  wonted  look  of 
still  patience. 

"  Did  Jeff  tell  you  why  I  sent  for  you,  father  ?  " 

"  No.  But  I  knew  it  was  trouble,"  said  Whitwell, 
with  a  dignity  which  his  sympathy  for  her  gave  a 
countenance  better  adapted  to  the  expression  of  the 
lighter  emotions. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  353 

"  I  guess  you  were  right  about  him,"  she  resumed. 
She  went  on  to  tell  in  brief  the  story  that  Jeff  had 
told  her.  Her  father  did  not  interrupt  her,  but  at  the 
end  he  said,  inadequately  :  "  He's  a  comical  devil.  I 
knew  about  his  gittin'  that  feller  drunk.  Mr.  West- 
over  told  me  when  he  was  up  here." 

"  Mr.  Westover  did  ! "  said  Cynthia,  in  a  note  of 
indignation. 

"  He  didn't  offer  to,"  Whitwell  explained.  "  I  got 
it  out  of  him  in  spite  of  him,  I  guess."  He  had  sat 
down  with  his  hat  on,  as  his  absent-minded  habit  was, 
and  he  now  braced  his  knees  against  the  edge  of  the 
table.  Cynthia  sat  across  it  from  him  with  her  head 
drooped  over  it,  drawing  vague  figures  on  the  board 
with  her  finger.  "  What  are  you  goin'  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered. 

"  I  guess  you  don't  quite  realize  it  yet,"  her  father 
suggested,  tenderly.  "  Well,  I  don't  want  to  hurry  you 
any.  Take  your  time." 

"  I  guess  I  realize  it,"  said  the  girl. 

"Well,  it's  a  pootty  plain  case,  that's  a  fact," 
Whitwell  conceded.  She  was  silent,  and  he  asked, 
"  How  did  he  come  to  tell  you  ? " 

"  It's  what  he  came  up  for.  He  began  to  tell  me 
at  once.  I  was  certain  there  was  some  trouble." 

"  Was  it  his  notion  to  come,  I  wonder,  or  Mr.  West- 
over's  ? " 

"  It  was  his.  But  Mr.  Westover  told  him  to  break 
off  with  me,  and  keep  on  with  her,  if  she  would  let 
him." 

"  I  guess  that  was  pootty  good  advice,"  said  Whit- 
W 


354  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

well,  letting  his  face  betray  his  humorous  relish  of  it. 
"  I  guess  there's  a  pair  of  'em." 

"  She  was  not  playing  any  one  else  false,"  said  Cyn 
thia,  bitterly. 

"  Well,  I  guess  that's  so,  too,"  her  father  assented. 
"  Ta'n't  so  much  of  a  muchness  as  you  might  think, 
in  that  light."  He  took  refuge  from  the  subject  in 
an  undirected  whistle. 

After  a  moment  the  girl  asked,  forlornly,  "  What 
should  you  do,  father,  if  you  were  in  my  place  ? " 

"Well,  there  I  guess  you  got  me,  Cynthy,"  said 
her  father.  "  I  don't  believe  't  any  man,  I  don't  care 
how  old  he  is,  or  how  much  experience  he's  had,  knows 
exactly  how  a  girl  feels  about  a  thing  like  this,  or  has 
got  any  call  to  advise  her.  Of  course,  the  way  I  feel 
is  like  takin'  the  top  of  his  head  off.  But  I  d'  know," 
he  added,  "  as  that  would  do  a  great  deal  of  good, 
either.  /  presume  a  woman's  got  rather  of  a  chore  to 
get  along  with  a  man,  anyway.  .  We  a'n't  any  of  us 
much  to  brag  on.  It's  out  o'  sight,  out  o'  mind,  with 
the  best  of  us,  /guess." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  with  Jackson — it  wouldn't  be  with 
Mr.  Westover." 

"  There  a'n't  many  men  like  Mr.  Westover — well 
not  a  great  many  ;  or  Jackson,  either.  Time  !  I  wish 
Jackson  was  home  !  He'd  know  how  to  straighten 
this  thing  out,  and  he  wouldn't  weaken  over  Jeff  much 
—well,  not  much.  But  he  a'n't  here,  and  you've  got 
to  act  for  yourself.  The  way  I  look  at  it  is  this:  you 
took  Jeff  when  you  knowed  what  a  comical  devil  he 
was,  and  I  presume  you  ha'n't  got  quite  the  same  right 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  355 

to  be  disappointed  in  what  he  done  as  if  you  hadn't 
knowed.  Now  mind,  I  a'n't  excusin'  him.  But  if 
you  knowed  he  was  the  feller  to  play  the  devil  if  he 
got  a  chance,  the  question  is  whether — whether — 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,  father,"  said  the  girl, 
"and  I  don't  want  to  shirk  my  responsibility.  It  was 
everything  to  have  him  come  right  up  and  tell  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Whitwell,  impartially,  "  as  far  forth 
as  that  goes,  I  don't  think  he's  strained  himself.  He'd 
know  you  would  hear  of  it  sooner  or  later  anyway,  and 
he  ha'n't  just  found  out  that  he  was  goiri'  wrong. 
Been  keepin'  it  up  for  the  last  three  months,  and 
writin'  you  all  the  while  them  letters  you  was  so  crazy 
to  get." 

"  Yes,"  sighed  the  girl.  "  But  we've  got  to  be  just 
to  his  disposition  as  well  as  his  actions.  I  can  see  it 
in  one  light  that  can  excuse  it  some.  He  can't  bear 
to  be  put  down,  and  I  know  he's  been  left  out  a  good 
deal  among  the  students,  and  it's  made  him  bitter. 
He  told  me  about  it ;  that's  one  reason  why  he  wanted 
to  leave  Harvard  this  last  year.  He  saw  other  young 
men  made  much  of,  when  he  didn't  get  any  notice ; 
and  when  he  had  the  chance  to  pay  them  back  with  a 
girl  of  their  own  set  that  was  trying  to  make  a  fool  of 
him—" 

"  That  was  the  time  for  him  to  remember  yow,"  said 
Whitwell. 

Cynthia  broke  under  the  defence  she  was  trying  to 
make.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  with  an  indrawn  sigh,  and 
she  began  to  sob  piteously. 

The  sight  of  her  grief  seemed  to  kindle  her  father's 


356  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

wrath  to  a  flame.  "  Anyway  you  look  at  him,  he's 
been  a  dumn  blackguard ;  that's  what  he's  been. 
You're  a  million  times  too  good  for  him ;  and  I — " 

She  sobbed  herself  quiet,  and  then  she  said ;  "  Fa 
ther,  I  don't  like  to  go  up  there  to-night.  I  want  to 
stay  here." 

"  All  right,  Cynthia.  I'll  come  down  and  stay  with 
you.  You  got  everything  we  want  here  ? " 

"  Yes.  And  I'll  go  up  and  get  the  breakfast  for 
them  in  the  morning.  There  won't  be  much  to  do." 

"  Dumn  'em  !  Let  'em  get  their  own  breakfast !  " 
said  Whitwell,  recklessly. 

"And,  father,"  the  girl  went  on  as  if  he  had  not 
spoken,  "  don't  you  talk  to  Mrs.  Durgin  about  it,  will 
you  ? " 

"No,  no.  I  sha'n't  speak  to  her.  I'll  just  tell 
Frank  you  and  me  are  goin'  to  stay  down  here  to 
night.  She'll  suspicion  something,  but  she  can  figure 
it  out  for  herself.  Or  she  can  make  Jeff  tell  her.  It 
can't  be  kept  from  her." 

"  Well,  let  him  be  the  one  to  tell  her.  Whatever 
happens,  I  shall  never  speak  of  it  to  a  soul  besides 
you." 

"All  right,  Cynthy.  You'll  have  the  night  to  think 
it  over — I  guess  you  won't  sleep  much — and  I'll 
trust  you  to  do  what's  the  best  thing  about  it," 


XLV. 

CYNTHIA  found  Mrs.  Durgin  in  the  old  farm-house 
kitchen  at  work  getting  breakfast  when  she  came  up 
to  the  hotel  in  the  morning.  She  was  early,  but  the 
elder  woman  had  been  earlier  still,  and  her  heavy  face 
showed  more  of  their  common  night-long  trouble  than 
the  girl's. 

She  demanded,  at  sight  of  her,  "  What's  the  mat 
ter  with  you  and  Jeff,  Cynthy  ? " 

Cynthia  was  unrolling  the  cloud  from  her  hair. 
She  said,  as  she  tied  on  her  apron,  "  You  must  get 
him  to  tell  you,  Mrs.  Durgin." 

"  Then  there  is  something  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Has  Jeff  been  using  you  wrong  ?  " 

Cynthia  stooped  to  open  the  oven  door,  and  to  turn 
the  pan  of  biscuit  she  found  inside.  She  shut  the 
door  sharply  to,  and  said,  as  she  rose  :  "  I  don't  want 
to  tell  anything  about  it,  and  I  sha'n't,  Mrs.  Durgin. 
He  can  do  it,  if  he  wants  to.  Shall  I  make  the 
coffee  ? " 

"  Yes ;  you  seem  to  make  it  better  than  I  do.  Do 
you  think  I  shouldn't  believe  you  was  fair  to  him  ? " 


358  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  that.     But  it's  his  secret.    If 
he  wants  to  keep  it,  he  can  keep  it,  for  all  me." 
"  You  ha'n't  give  each  other  up  ?  " 
"  I  don't  know."       Cynthia    turned    away    with  a 
trembling  chin,  and  began  to  beat  the  coffee  up  with 
an  egg  she  had  dropped  into  the  pot.     She  put  the 
breakfast   on  the   table   when   it  was   ready,  but  she 
would  not  sit  down  with  the  rest.       She  said  she  did 
not  want  any  breakfast,  and  she  drank  a  cup  of  coffee 
in  the  kitchen. 

It  fell  to  Jeff  mainly  to  keep  the  talk  going.  He  had 
been  out  at  the  barn  with  Jombateeste  since  daybreak, 
looking  after  the  cattle,  and  the  joy  of  the  weather 
had  got  into  his  nerves  and  spirits.  At  first  he  had 
lain  awake  after  he  went  to  bed,  but  he  had  fallen 
asleep  about  midnight,  and  got  a  good  night's  rest. 
He  looked  fresh  and  strong  and  very  handsome.  He 
talked  resolutely  to  every  one  at  the  table,  but  Jom 
bateeste  was  always  preoccupied  with  eating  at  his 
meals,  and  Frank  Whitwell  had  on  a  Sunday  silence, 
which  was  perhaps  deepened  by  a  feeling  that  there 
was  something  wrong  between  his  sister  and  Jeff,  and 
it  would  be  rash  to  commit  himself  to  an  open  friend 
liness  until  he  understood  the  case.  His  father  met 
Jeff's  advances  with  philosophical  blandness  and  eva 
sion,  and  Mrs.  Durgin  was  provisionally  dry  and  se 
vere  both  with  the  Whitwells  and  her  son.  After 
breakfast  she  went  to  the  parlor,  and  Jeff  set  about  a 
tour  of  the  hotel,  inside  and  out.  He  looked  carefully 
to  the  details  of  its  winter  keeping.  Then  he  came 
back  and  boldly  joined  his  mother  where  she  sat  be- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  359 

fore  her  stove,  whose  subdued  heat  she  found  pleas 
ant  in  the  lingering  cold  of  the  early  spring. 

lie  tossed  his  hat  on  the  table  beside  her,  and  sat 
down  on  the  other  side  of  the  stove.  "  Well,  I  must 
say,  the  place  has  been  well  looked  after.  I  don't  be 
lieve  Jackson  himself  could  have  kept  it  in  better 
shape.  When  was  the  last  you  heard  from  him  ?  " 

"  I  hope,"  said  his  mother,  gravely,  "  you've  been 
lookin'  after  your  end  at  Boston,  too." 

"  Well,  not  as  well  as  you  have  here,  mother,"  said 
Jeff,  candidly.  "  Has  Cynthy  told  you  ?  " 

"  I  guess  she  expected  you  to  tell  me,  if  there  was 
anything." 

"  There's  a  lot ;  but  I  guess  I  needn't  go  over  it  all. 
I've  been  playing  the  devil." 
"Jeff!" 

"  Yes,  I  have.     I've  been  going  with  another  girl 
down  there,  one  of  the  kind  you   wanted  me  to  make 
up  to,  and  I  went  so  far  I — well,  I  made  love  to  her ; 
and  then  I  thought  it  over,  and  I  found  out  I  didn't 
really  care  for  her,  and  I  had  to  tell  her  so,  and  then 
I  came  up  to  tell  Cynthy.     That's  about  the  size  of  it. 
What  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 
"  D'  you  tell  Cynthy  ?  " 
"Yes,  I  told  her." 
"  What'  d  she  say  ?  " 

"  She  said  I'd  better  go  back  to  the  other  girl." 
Jeff  laughed  hardily,  but  his  mother  remained  impas 
sive. 

"  I  guess  she's  right ;  I  guess  you  had." 

"That  seems  to  be  the  general  opinion.      That's 


360  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

what  Mr.  Westovcr  advised.  I  seem  to  be  the  only 
one  against  it.  I  suppose  you  mean  that  I'm  not  fit 
for  Cynthy.  I  don't  deny  it.  All  I  say  is  I  want  her, 
and  I  don't  want  the  other  one.  What  are  you  going 
to  do  in  a  case  like  that  ? " 

"The  way  I  should  look  at  it,"  said  his  mother, 
"  is  this  :  whatever  you  are,  Cynthy  made  you.  You 
was  a  lazy,  disobedient,  worthless  boy,  and  it  was  her 
carin'  for  you  from  the  first  that  put  any  spirit  and 
any  principle  into  you.  It  was  her  that  helped  you 
at  school  when  you  was  little  things  together  ;  and, 
she  helped  you  at  the  academy,  and  she's  helped  you 
at  college.  I'll  bet  she  could  take  a  degree,  or  what 
ever  it  is,  at  Harvard  better  than  you  could  now; 
and  if  you  ever  do  take  a  degree,  you've  got  her  to 
thank  for  it." 

"  That's  so,"  said  Jeff.  "  And  what's  the  reason 
you  didn't  want  me  to  marry  her  when  I  came  in  here 
last  summer  and  told  you  I'd  asked  her  to  ?-" 

"  You  know  well  enough  what  the  reason  was.  It 
was  part  of  the  same  thing  as  my  wantin'  you  to  be  a 
lawyer;  but  I  might  knowed  that  if  you  didn't  have 
Cynthy  to  go  into  court  with  you,  and  put  the  words 
into  your  mouth,  you  wouldn't  make  a  speech  that 
would" — Mrs.  Durgin  paused  for  a  fitting  figure — 
"  save  a  flea  from  the  gallows." 

Jeff  burst  into  a  laugh.  "  Well,  I  guess  that's  so, 
mother.  And  now  you  want  me  to  throw  away  the 
only  chance  I've  got  of  learning  how  to  run  Lion's 
Head  in  the  right  way  by  breaking  with  Cynthy." 

"Nobody    wants    you    to    run  Lion's    Head  for  a 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  361 

while  yet,"  his  mother  returned,  scornfully.  "  Jack 
son  is  going  to  run  Lion's  Head.  He'll  be  home  the 
end  of  June,  and  /V/  run  Lion's  Head  till  he  gets 
here.  You  talk,"  she  went  on,  "  as  if  it  was  in  your 
hands  to  break  with  Cynthy,  or  throw  away  the 
chance  with  her.  The  way  I  look  at  it,  she's  broke 
with  you,  and  you  ha'n't  got  any  chance  with  her. 
Oh,  Jeff,"  she  suddenly  appealed  to  him,  "  tell  me  all 
about  it  !  What  have  you  been  up  to  ?  If  I  under 
stood  it  once,  I  know  I  can  make  her  see  it  in  the 
right  light." 

"The  better  you  understand  it,  mother,  the  less 
you'll  like  it;  and  I  guess  Cynthy  sees  it  in  the  right 
light  already.  What  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  She  said  she'd  leave  it  to  you." 
"  Well,  that's  like  Cynthy.  I'll  tell  you,  then,"  said 
Jeff;  and  he  told  his  mother  his  whole  affair  with 
Bessie  Lynde.  He  had  to  be  very  elemental,  and  he 
was  aware,  as  he  had  never  been  before,  of  the  differ 
ence  between  Bessie's  world  and  his  mother's  world, 
in  trying  to  make  Bessie's  world  conceivable  to  her. 
He  was  patient  in  going  over  every  obscure  point,  and 
illustrating  from  the  characters  and  condition  of  dif 
ferent  summer-folks  the  facts  of  Bessie's  entourage. 
It  is  doubtful,  however,  if  he  succeeded  in  conveying 
to  his  mother  a  clear  and  just  notion  of  the  purely 
chic  nature  of  the  girl.  In  the  end  she  seemed  to 
conceive  of  her  simply  as  a  hussy,  and  so  pronounced 
her,  without  limit  or  qualification,  in  spite  of  Jeff's 
laughing  attempt  to  palliate  her  behavior,  and  to  in 
culpate  himself.  She  said  she  did  not  see  what  he 


362  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

had  done  that  was  so  much  out  of  the  way.  That 
thing  had  led  him  on  from  the  beginning;  she  had 
merely  got  her  come-uppings,  when  all  was  said.  Mrs. 
Durgin  believed  Cynthia  would  look  at  it  as  she  did,  if 
she  could  have  it  put  before  her  rightly.  Jeff  shook 
his  head  with  persistent  misgiving.  His  notion  was 
that  Cynthia  saw  the  affair  only  too  clearly,  and  that 
there  was  no  new  light  to  be  thrown  on  it  from  her 
point  of  view.  Mrs.  Durgin  would  not  allow  this;, 
she  was  sure  that  she  could  bring  Cynthia  round ;  and 
she  asked  Jeff  whether  it  was  his  getting  that  fellow 
drunk  that  she  seemed  to  blame  him  for  the  most.  He 
answered  that  he  thought  that  was  pretty  bad,  but  he 
did  not  believe  that  was  the  worst  thing  in  Cynthia's 
eyes.  He  did  not  forbid  his  mother's  trying  to  do 
what  she  could  with  her,  and  he  went  away  for  a  walk, 
and  left  the  house  to  the  two  women.  Jombateeste 
was  in  the  barn,  which  he  preferred  to  the  house,  and 
Frank  Whitwell  had  gone  to  church  over  at  the  Hud 
dle.  As  Jeff  passed  WhitwelPs  cottage  in  setting  out 
on  his  stroll  he  saw  the  philosopher  through  the  win 
dow,  seated  with  his  legs  on  the  table,  his  hat  pushed 
back,  and  his  spectacles  fallen  to  the  point  of  his  nose, 
reading,  and  moving  his  lips  as  he  read. 

The  forenoon  sun  was  soft,  but  the  air  was  cool. 
There  was  still  plenty  of  snow  on  the  upper  slopes  of 
the  hills,  and  there  was  a  drift  here  and  there  in  a 
corner  of  pasture  wall  in  the  valley ;  but  the  spring 
time  green  was  beginning  to  hover  over  the  wet  places 
in  the  fields ;  the  catkins  silvered  the  golden  tracery 
of  the  willow  branches  by  the  brook ;  there  was  a  buzz 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  363 

of  bees  about  them,  and  about  the  maples,  blackened 
by  the  earlier  flow  of  sap  through  the  holes  in  the 
bark  made  by  the  woodpeckers'  bills.  Now  and  then 
the  tremolo  of  a  bluebird  shook  in  the  tender  light 
and  the  keen  air.  At  one  point  in  the  road  where  the 
sun  fell  upon  some  young  pines  in  a  sheltered  spot  a 
balsamic  odor  exhaled  from  them. 

These  gentle  sights  and  sounds  and  odors  blended 
in  the  influence  which  Jeff's  spirit  felt  more  and  more. 
He  realized  that  he  was  a  blot  on  the  loveliness  of  the 
morning.  He  had  a  longing  to  make  atonement  and 
to  win  forgiveness.  His  heart  was  humbled  towards 
Cynthia,  and  he  went  wondering  how  his  mother  would 
make  it  out  with  her,  and  how,  if  she  won  him  any 
advantage,  he  should  avail  himself  of  it  and  regain  the 
girl's  trust ;  he  had  no  doubt  of  her  love.  He  per 
ceived  that  there  was  nothing  for  him  hereafter  but 
the  most  perfect  constancy  of  thought  and  deed,  and 
he  desired  nothing  better. 

At  a  turn  of  his  road  where  it  branched  towards 
the  Huddle  a  group  of  young  girls  stood  joking  and 
laughing;  before  Jeff  came  up  with  them  they  sepa 
rated,  and  all  but  one  continued  on  the  way  beyond 
the  turning.  She  came  towards  Jeff,  who  gayly  rec 
ognized  her  as  she  drew  near. 

She  blushed  and  bridled  at  his  bow  and  at  his 
beauty  and  splendor,  and  in  her  embarrassment  pertly 
said  that  she  did  not  suppose  he  would  have  remem 
bered  her.  She  was  very  young,  but  at  fifteen  a  coun 
try  girl  is  not  so  young  as  her  town  sister  at  eighteen 
in  the  ways  of  the  other  sex. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

Jeff  answered  that  lie  should  have  known  her  any 
where,  in  spite  of  her  looking  so  much  older  than  she 
did  in  the  summer  when  she  had  come  with  berries  to 
the  hotel.  He  said  she  must  be  feeling  herself  quite 
a  young  lady  now,  in  her  long  dresses,  and  he  praised 
the  dress  which  she  had  on.  He  said  it  became  her 
style ;  and  he  found  such  relief  from  his  heavy 
thoughts  in  these  harmless  pleasantries  that  he  kept 
on  with  them.  He  had  involuntarily  turned  with  her 
to  walk  back  to  her  house  on  the  way  he  had  come, 
and  he  asked  her  if  he  might  not  carty  her  catkins 
for  her.  She  had  a  sheaf  of  them  in  the  hollow  of 
her  slender  arm,  which  seemed  to  him  very  pretty, 
and  after  a  little  struggle  she  yielded  them  to  him. 
The  struggle  gave  him  still  greater  relief  from  his 
self-reproach,  and  at  her  gate  he  begged  her  to  let 
him  keep  one  switch  of  the  pussy-willows,  and  he 
stood  a  moment  wondering  whether  he  might  not  ask 
her  for  something  else.  She  chose  one  from  the  bun 
dle,  and  drew  it  lightly  across  his  face  before  she  put 
it  in  his  hand.  "  You  may  have  this  for  Cynthy," 
she  said,  and  she  ran  laughingly  up  the  pathway  to 
her  door. 


XLVI. 

CYNTHIA  did  not  appear  at  dinner,  and  Jeff  asked 
his  mother  when  he  saw  her  alone  if  she  had  spoken 
to  the  girl.  "  Yes,  but  she  said  she  did  not  want  to 
talk  yet." 

"  All  right,"  he  returned.  "  I'm  going  to  take  a 
nap ;  I  believe  I  feel  as  if  I  hadn't  slept  for  a  month." 

He  slept  the  greater  part  of  the  afternoon,  and 
came  down  rather  dull  to  the  early  tea.  Cynthia  was 
absent  again,  and  his  mother  was  silent  and  wore  a 
troubled  look.  Whitwell  was  full  of  a  novel  concep 
tion  of  the  agency  of  hypnotism  in  interpreting  the 
life  of  the  soul  as  it  is  intimated  in  dreams.  He  had 
been  reading  a  book  that  affirmed  the  consubstantial- 
ity  of  the  sleep-dream  and  the  hypnotic  illusion.  He 
wanted  to  know  if  Jeff,  down  at  Boston,  had  seen 
anything  of  the  hypnotic  doings  that  would  throw 
light  on  this  theory. 

It  was  still  full  light  when  they  rose  from  the  table, 
and  it  was  scarcely  twilight  when  Jeff  heard  Cynthia 
letting  herself  out  at  the  back  door.  He  fancied  her 
going  down  to  her  father's  house,  and  he  went  out  to 
the  corner  of  the  hotel  to  meet  her.  She  faltered  a 


866  TILE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

moment  at  sight    of    him,  and    then    kept    on  with 
averted  face.  » 

He  joined  her,  and  walked  beside  her.  "Well, 
Cynthy,  what  are  you  going  to  say  to  me  ?  I'm  off 
for  Cambridge  again  to-morrow  morning,  and  I  sup 
pose  we've  got  to  understand  each  other.  I  came  up 
here  to  put  myself  in  your  hands,  to  keep  or  to  throw 
away,  just  as  you  please.  Well  ?  Have  you  thought 
about  it?" 

"  Every  minute,"  said  the  girl,  quietly. 
"  Well  ?  " 

"  If  you  had  cared  for  me,  it  couldn't  have  hap 
pened." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  could.  Now  that's  just  where  you're 
mistaken.  That's  where  a  woman  never  can  under 
stand  a  man.  I  might  carry  on  with  half  a  dozen 
girls,  and  yet  never  forget  you,  or  think  less  of  you, 
although  I  could  see  all  the  time  how  pretty  and 
bright  every  one  of  'em  was.  That's  the  way  a  man's 
mind  is  built.  It's  curious,  but  it's  true." 

"  I  don't  believe  I  care  for  any  share  in  your  mind, 
then,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Oh,  come,  now  !  You  don't  mean  that.  You 
know  I  was  just  joking ;  you  know  I  don't  justify 
what  I've  done,  and  I  don't  excuse  it.  But  I  think 
I've  acted  pretty  square  with  you  about  it — about 
telling  you,  I  mean.  I  don't  want  to  lay  any  claim, 
but  you  remember  when  you  made  me  promise  that 
if  there  was  anything  shady  I  wanted  to  hide  from 
you—  Well,  I  acted  on  that.  You  do  remember  ? " 
"  Yes,"  said  Cynthia,  and  she  pulled  the  cloud  over 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  367 

the  side  of  her  face  next  to  him,  and  walked  a  little 
faster. 

lie  hastened  his  steps  to  keep  up  with  her.  "  Cyn- 
thy,  if  you  put  your  arms  round  me,  as  you  did, 
then — " 

"  I  can't,  Jeff  !  " 

"  You  don't  want  to." 

"  Yes,  I  do  !  But  you  don't  want  me  to,  as  you 
did  then.  Do  you?"  She  stopped  abruptly  and 
faced  him  full.  "  Tell  me  honestly  ! " 

Jeff  dropped  his  bold  eyes,  and  the  smile  left  his 
handsome  mouth. 

"  You  don't,"  said  the  girl,  "  for  you  know  that  if 
you  did,  I  would  do  it."  She  began  to  walk  on  again. 
"  It  wouldn't  be  hard  for  me  to  forgive  you  anything 
you've  done  against  me — or  against  yourself ;  I  should 
care  for  you  the  same — if  you  were  the  same  person ; 
but  you're  not  the  same,  and  you  know  it.  I  told 
you  then — that  time — that  I  didn't  want  to  make  you 
do  what  you  knew  was  right,  and  I  never  shall  try  to 
do  it  again.  I'm  sorry  I  did  it  then.  I  was  wrong. 
And  I  should  be  afraid  of  you  if  I  did  now.  Some 
time  you  would  make  me  suffer  for  it,  just  as  you've 
made  me  suffer  for  making  you  do  then  what  was 
right." 

It  struck  Jeff  as  a  very  curious  fact  that  Cynthia 
must  always  have  known  him  better  than  he  knew 
himself  in  some  ways,  for  he  now  perceived  the  truth 
and  accuracy  of  her  words.  He  gave  her  mind  credit 
for  the  penetration  due  her  heart;  he  did  not  under 
stand  that  it  is  through  their  love  women  divine  the 


368  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

souls  of  men.  What  other  witnesses  of  his  character 
had  slowly  and  carefully  reasoned  out  from  their 
experience  of  him  she  had  known  from  the  beginning, 
because  he  was  dear  to  her. 

lie  was  silent,  and  then,  with  rare  gravity,  he  said, 
"  Cynthia,  I  believe  you're  right,"  and  he  never  knew 
how  her  heart  leaped  towards  him  at  his  words.  "  I'm 
a  pretty  bad  chap,  I  guess.  But  I  want  you  to  give 
me  another  chance — and  I'll  try  not  to  make  you  pay 
for  it,  either,"  he  added,  with  a  nicker  of  his  saucy 
humor. 

"  I'll  give  you  a  chance,  then,"  she  said,  and  she 
shrank  from  the  hand  he  put  out  towards  her.r  "Go 
back  and  tell  that  girl  you're  free  now,  and  if  she 
wants  you  she  can  have  you." 

"  Is  that  what  you  call  a  chance  ? "  demanded  Jeff, 
between  anger  and  injury.  For  an  instant  he  imag 
ined  her  deriding  him  and  revenging  herself. 

"It's  the  only  one  I  can  give  you.  She's  never  tried 
to  make  you  do  what  was  right,  and  you'll  never  be 
tempted  to  hurt  her." 

"  You're  pretty  rough  on  me,  Cynthy,"  Jeff  pro 
tested,  almost  plaintively.  He  asked,  more  in  charac 
ter,  "  Ain't  you  afraid  of  making  me  do  right,  now  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  making  you.  I  don't  promise  you  any 
thing,  even  if  she  won't  have  you." 

"Oh!" 

"  Did  you  suppose  I  didn't  mean  that  you  were 
free  ?  That  I  would  put  a  lie  in  your  mouth  for  you 
to  be  true  with  ?  " 

"  I  guess  you're  too  deep  for  me,"  said  Jeff,  after  a 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  369 

sulky  silence.     "  Then  it's  all  off  between  us  ?     What 
do  you  say  ? " 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

'*!  say  it's  just  as  it  was  before,  if  you  care  for  me." 

"  I  care  for  you,  but  it  can  never  be  the  same  as  it 
was  before.  What  you've  done,  you've  done.  I  wish 
I  could  help  it,  but  I  can't.  I  can't  make  myself  over 
into  what  I  was  twenty-four  hours  ago.  I  seem  an 
other  person,  in  another  world ;  it's  as  if  I  died,  and 
came  to  life  somewhere  else.  I'm  sorry  enough,  if 
that  could  help,  but  it  can't.  Go  and  tell  that  girl  the 
truth :  that  you  came  up  here  to  me,  and  I  sent  you 
back  to  her." 

A  gleam  of  amusement  visited  Jeff  in  the  gloom 
where  he  seemed  to  be  darkling.  He  fancied  doing 
that  very  thing  with  Bessie  Lynde,  and  the  wild  joy 
she  would  snatch  from  an  experience  so  unique,  so 
impossible.  Then  the  gleam  faded.  "  And  what  if  I 
didn't  want  her?'1'1  he  demanded. 

"  Tell  her  that  too,"  said  Cynthia. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Jeff,  sulkily,  "  you'll  let  me  go 
away  and  do  as  I  please,  if  I'm  free." 

"  Oh  yes.  I  don't  want  you  to  do  anything  because 
I  told  you.  I  won't  make  that  mistake  again.  Go 
and  do  what  you  are  able  to  do  of  your  own  free  will. 
You  know  what  you  ought  to  do  as  well  as  I  do ;  and 
you  know  a  great  deal  better  what  you  can  do." 

They  had  reached  Cynthia's  house,  and  they  were 
talking  at  the  side  door,  as  they  had  the  night  before, 
when  there  had  been  hope  for  her  in  the  newness  of 
her  calamity,  before  she  had  yet  fully  imagined  it. 
X 


370  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

Jeff  made  no  answer  to  her  last  words.  He  asked, 
"  Am  I  going  to  see  you  again  ?  " 

"  I  guess  not.  I  don't  believe  I  shall  be  up  before 
you  start." 

"All  right.  Good-by,  then."  He  held  out  his 
hand,  and  she  put  hers  in  it  for  the  moment  he  chose 
to  hold  it.  Then  he  turned  and  slowly  climbed  the 
hill. 

Cynthia  was  still  lying  with  her  face  in  her  pillow 
when  her  father  came  into  the  dark  little  house,  and 
peered  into  her  room  with  the  newly  lighted  lamp  in 
his  hand.  She  turned  her  face  quickly  over  and 
looked  at  him  with  dry  and  shining  eyes. 

"  Well,  it's  all  over  with  Jeff  and  me,  father." 

"Well,  I'm  satisfied,"  said  Whitwell.  "If  you 
could  ha'  made  it  up,  so  you  could  ha'  felt  right  about 
it,  I  shouldn't  ha'  had  anything  to  say  against  it,  but 
I'm  glad  it's  turned  out  the  way  it  has.  He's  a  com 
ical  devil,  and  he  always  was,  and  I'm  glad  you  a'n't 
takin'  on  about  him  any  more.  You  used  to  have  so 
much  spirit  when  you  was  little." 

"  Oh,  spirit !  You  don't  know  how  much  spirit  I've 
had,  now." 

"  Well,  I  presume  not,"  Whitwell  assented. 

"  I've  been  thinking,"  said  the  girl,  after  a  little 
pause,  "  that  we  shall  have  to  go  away  from  here." 

"  Well,  I  guess  not"  her  father  began.  "  Not  for 
no  Jeff  Dur— " 

"  Yes,  yes.  We  must!  Don't  make  me  talk  about 
it.  We'll  stay  here  till  Jackson  gets  back  in  June, 
and  then — we  must  go  somewhere  else.  We'll  go 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  371 

down  to  Boston,  and  I'll  try  to  get  a  place  to  teach, 
or  something,  and  Frank  can  get  a  place." 

"  I  presume,"  Whitwell  mused,  "that  Mr.  Westover 
could—" 

"  Father  !  "  cried  the  girl  with  an  energy  that  star 
tled  him,  as  she  lifted  herself  on  her  elbow.  "  Don't 
ever  think  of  troubling  Mr.  Westover !  Oh,"  she 
lamented,  "  I  was  thinking  of  troubling  him  myself ! 
But  we  mustn't,  we  mustn't !  I  should  be  so 
ashamed  !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Whitwell,  "  time  enough  to  think 
about  all  that.  We  got  two  good  months  yet  to  plan 
it  out  before  Jackson  gets  back,  and  I  guess  we  can 
think  of  something  before  that.  I  presume,"  he  add 
ed,  thoughtfully,  "  that  when  Mrs.  Durgin  hears  that 
you've  give  Jeff  the  sack,  she'll  make  consid'able  of  a 
kick.  She  done  it  when  you  got  engaged." 


XLVIL 

AFTER  he  went  back  to  Cambridge,  Jeff  continued 
mechanically  in  the  direction  given  him  by  motives 
which  had  ceased  for  him.  In  the  midst  of  his  diver 
gence  with  Bessie  Lynde  he  had  still  kept  an  inner 
fealty  to  Cynthia,  and  tried  to  fulfil  the  purposes  and 
ambition  she  had  for  him.  The  operation  of  this 
habitual  allegiance  now  kept  him  up  to  his  work,  but 
the  time  must  come  when  it  could  no  longer  operate, 
when  his  whole  consciousness  should  accept  the  fact 
known  to  his  intelligence,  and  he  should  recognize  the 
close  of  that  incident  of  his  life  as  the  bereaved  finally 
accept  and  recognize  the  fact  of  death. 

The  event  brought  him  relief,  and  it  brought  him 
freedom.  He  was  sensible  in  his  relaxation  of  havino- 

o 

strained  up  to  another's  ideal,  of  having  been  ham 
pered  by  another's  will.  His  pleasure  in  the  relief 
was  tempered  by  a  regret,  not  wholly  unpleasant,  for 
the  girl  whose  aims,  since  they  were  no  longer  his, 
must  be  disappointed.  He  was  sorry  for  Cynthia,  and 
in  his  remorse  he  was  fonder  of  her  than  he  had  ever 
been.  He  felt  her  magnanimity  and  clemency ;  he  be 
gan  to  question,  in  that  wordless  deep  of  being  where 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  373 

volition  begins,  whether  it  would  not  be  paying  a  kind 
of  duty  to  her  if  he  took  her  at  her  word  and  tried  to 
go  back  to  Bessie  Lynde.  But  for  the  present  he  did 
nothing  but  renounce  all  notion  of  working  at  his 
conditions,  or  attempting  to  take  a  degree.  That  was 
part  of  a  thing  that  was  past,  and  was  no  part  of  any 
thing  to  come,  so  far  as  Jeff  now  forecast  his  future. 

He  did  not  choose  to  report  himself  to  AVestover, 
and  risk  a  scolding,  or  a  snubbing.  He  easily  forgave 
Westover  for  the  tone  he  had  taken  at  their  last  meet 
ing,  but  he  did  not  care  to  see  him.  He  would  have 
met  him  half-way,  however,  in  a  friendly  advance,  and 
he  was  aware  of  much  good-will  towards  him,  which  he 
could  not  have  been  reluctant  to  show  if  chance  had 
brought  them  together. 

Jeff  missed  Cynthia's  letters  which  used  to  come  so 
regularly  every  Tuesday,  and  he  had  a  half-hour  every 
Sunday  which  was  at  first  rather  painfully  vacant  since 
he  no  longer  wrote  to  her.  But  in  this  vacancy  he 
had  at  least  no  longer  the  pang  of  self-reproach  which 
her  letters  always  brought  him,  and  he  was  not  obliged 
to  put  himself  to  the  shame  of  concealment  in  writing 
to  her.  He  had  never  minded  that  tacit  lying  on  his 
own  account,  but  he  hated  it  in  relation  to  her ;  it 
always  hurt  him  as  something  incongruous  and  unfit. 
He  wrote  to  his  mother  now  on  Sunday,  and  in  his 
first  letter,  while  the  impression  of  Cynthia's  dignity 
and  generosity  was  still  vivid,  he  urged  her  to  make 
it  clear  to  the  girl  that  he  wished  her  and  her  family 
to  remain  at  Lion's  Head  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
He  put  a  great  deal  of  real  feeling  into  his  request, 


374  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

and  he  offered  to  go  and  spend  a  year  in  Europe,  if 
his  mother  thought  that  Cynthia  would  be  more  rec 
onciled  to  his  coming  back  at  the  end  of  that  time. 

His  mother  answered  with  a  dryness  to  which  his 
ear  supplied  the  tones  of  her  voice,  that  she  would  try 
to  get  along  in  the  management  of  Lion's  Head  till 
his  brother  got  back,  but  that  she  had  no  objection  to 
his  going  to  Europe  for  a  year  if  he  had  the  money 
to  spare.  Jeff  could  not  refuse  her  joke,  as  he  felt  it, 
a  certain  applause,  but  he  thought  it  pretty  rough  that 
his  mother  should  take  part  so  decidedly  against  him 
as  she  seemed  to  be  doing.  He  had  expected  her  to 
be  angry  with  him,  but  before  they  parted  she  had 
seemed  to  find  some  excuse  for  him,  and  yet  here  she 
was  siding  against  her  own  son  in  what  he  might  very 
well  consider  an  unnatural  way.  If  Jackson  had  been 
at  home  he  would  have  laid  it  to  his  charge ;  but  he 
knew  that  Cynthia  would  have  scorned  even  to  speak 
of  him  with  his  mother,  and  he  knew  too  well  his 
mother's  slight  for  Whitwell  to  suppose  that  he  could 
have  influenced  her.  His  mind  turned  in  momentary 
suspicion  to  Westover.  Had  Westover,  he  wondered, 
with  a  purpose  to  pay  him  up  for  it  forming  itself 
simultaneously  with  his  question,  been  setting  his 
mother  against  him?  She  might  have  written  to 
Westover  to  get  at  the  true  inwardness  of  his  behav 
ior,  and  Westover  might  have  written  her  something 
that  had  made  her  harden  her  l\eart  against  him.  But 
upon  reflection  this  seemed  out  of  character  for  both 
of  them;  and  Jeff  Was  thrown  back  upon  his  mother's 
sober  second  thought  of  his  misconduct  for  an  expla- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  875 

nation  of  her  coldness.  He  could  not  deny  that  he 
had  grievously  disappointed  her  in  several  ways. 

But  he  did  not  see  why  he  should  not  take  a  certain 
hint  from  her  letter,  or  construct  a  hint  from  it,  at 
one  with  a  vague  intent  prompted  by  his  own  restless 
and  curious  vanity.  Since  he  had  parted  with  Bessie 
Lynde,  on  terms  of  humiliation  for  her  which  must 
have  been  anguish  for  him  if  he  had  ever  loved  her, 
or  loved  anything  but  his  power  over  her,  he  had  re 
mained  in  absolute  ignorance  of  her.  He  had  not 
heard  where  she  was  or  how  she  was ;  but  now,  as  the 
few  weeks  before  Class  Day  and  Commencement 
crumbled  away,  he  began  to  wonder  why  she  made  no 
sign.  He  believed  that  since  she  had  been  willing  to 
go  so  far  to  get  him,  she  would  not  be  willing  to  give 
him  up  so  easily.  The  thought  of  Cynthia  had  always 
intruded  more  or  less  effectively  between  them,  but 
now  that  this  thought  began  to  fade  into  the  past,  the 
thought  of  Bessie  began  to  grow  out  of  it  with  no 
interposing  shadow. 

However,  Jeff  was  in  no  hurry.  It  was  not  passion 
that  moved  him,  and  the  mood  in  which  he  could  play 
with  the  notion  of  getting  back  to  his  flirtation  with 
Bessie  Lynde  was  pleasanter  after  the  violence  of 
recent  events  than  any  renewal  of  strong  sensations 
could  be.  He  preferred  to  loiter  in  this  mood,  and 
he  was  meantime  much  more  comfortable  than  he  had 
been  for  a  great  while.  He  was  rid  of  the  disagree 
able  sense  of  disloyalty  to  Cynthia,  and  he  was  rid  of 
the  stress  of  living  up  to  her  conscience  in  various 
ways.  He  was  rid  of  Bessie  Lynde,  too,  and  of  the 


376  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

trouble  of  forecasting  and  discounting  her  caprices. 
His  thought  turned  at  times  with  a  soft  regret  to 
hopes,  disappointments,  experiences  connected  with 
neither,  and  now  tinged  with  a  tender  melancholy, 
unalloyed  by  shame  or  remorse.  As  he  drew  nearer 
to  Class  Day  he  had  a  somewhat  keener  compunction 
for  Cynthia  and  the  hopes  he  had  encouraged  her  to 
build  and  had  then  dashed.  But  he  was  coming 
more  and  more  to  regard  it  all  as  a  fatality ;  and  if 
the  chance  that  he  counted  upon  to  bring  him  and 
Bessie  together  again  had  occurred  he  could  have 
more  easily  forgiven  himself. 

One  of  the  jays,  who  was  spreading  on  rather  a  large 
scale,  wanted  Jeff  to  spread  with  him,  but  he  refused, 
because,  as  he  said,  he  meant  to  keep  out  of  it  alto 
gether;  and  for  the  same  reason  he  declined  to  take 
part  in  the  spread  of  a  rather  jay  society  he  belonged 
to.  In  his  secret  heart  he  trusted  that  some  friendly 
fortuity  might  throw  an  invitation  to  Beck  Hall  in  his 
way,  or  at  least  a  card  for  the  Gym,  which,  if  no  longer 
the  place  it  had  been,  was  still  by  no  means  jay.  He 
got  neither ;  but  as  he  felt  all  the  joy  of  the  June  day 
in  his  young  blood  lie  consoled  himself  very  well  with 
the  dancing  at  one  of  the  halls,  where  the  company 
happened  that  year  to  be  openly,  almost  recklessly 
jay.  Jeff  had  some  distinction  among  the  fellows 
who  enviously  knew  of  his  social  successes  during  the 
winter,  and  especially  of  his  affair  with  Bessie  Lynde  ; 
and  there  were  some  girls  very  pretty  and  very  well 
dressed  among  the  crowd  of  girls  who  were  neither. 
They  were  from  remote  parts  of  the  country,  and  in 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  377 

the  charge  of  chaperons  ignorant  of  the  differences  so 
poignant  to  local  society.  Jeff  went  about  among 
them,  and  danced  with  the  sisters  and  cousins  of  sev 
eral  men  who  seemed  superior  to  the  lost  condition  of 
their  kinswomen ;  these  were  nice  fellows  enough,  but 
doomed  by  their  grinding,  or  digging,  or  their  want 
of  worldly  wisdom,  to  a  place  among  the  jays,  when 
they  really  had  some  qualifications  for  a  nobler  stand 
ing.  He  had  a  very  good  time,  and  he  was  enjoying 
himself  in  his  devotion  to  a  lively  young  brunette 
whom  he  was  making  laugh  with  his  jokes  about  some 
of  the  others,  when  his  eye  was  caught  by  a  group  of 
ladies  who  advanced  among  the  jays  with  something 
of  that  collective  intrepidity  and  individual  apprehen 
sion  characteristic  of  people  in  slumming.  They  had 
the  air  of  riot  knowing  what  might  happen  to  them, 
but  the  adventurous  young  Boston  matron  in  charge 
of  the  girls  kept  on  a  bold  front  behind  her  lorgnette, 
and  swept  the  strange  company  she  found  herself  in 
with  an  unshrinking  eye  as  she  led  her  band  among 
the  promenaders,  and  past  the  couples  seated  along 
the  walls.  She  hesitated  a  moment  as  her  glance  fell 
upon  Jeff,  and  then  she  yielded,  at  whatever  risk,  to 
the  comfort  of  finding  a  known  face  among  so  many 
aliens.  "  Why,  Mr.  Durgin  !  "  she  called  out.  "  Bes 
sie,  here's  Mr.  Durgin,"  and  she  turned  to  the  girl, 
who  was  in  her  train,  as  Jeff  had  perceived  by  some 
thing  finer  than  the  senses  from  the  first. 

He  rose  from  the  side  of  his  brunette,  whose  broth 
er  was  standing  near,  and  shook  hands  with  the  ad 
venturous  young  matron,  who  seemed  suddenly  much 


378  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

better  acquainted  with  him  than  he  had  ever  thought 
her,  and  with  Bessie  Lynde  ;  the  others  were  New 
York  girls,  and  the  matron  presented  him.  "  Are  you 
going  on  ? "  she  asked,  and  the  vague  challenge  with 
the  smile  that  accompanied  it  was  sufficient  invitation 
for  him. 

"  Why,  I  believe  so,"  he  said,  and  he  turned  to  take 
leave  of  his  pretty  brunette ;  but  she  had  promptly 
vanished  with  her  brother,  and  he  was  spared  the 
trouble  of  getting  rid  of  her.  He  would  have  been 
equal  to  much  more  for  the  sake  of  finding  himself 
with  Bessie  Lynde  again,  whose  excitement  he  could 
see  burning  in  her  eyes,  though  her  thick  complexion 
grew  neither  brighter  nor  paler.  He  did  not  know 
what  quality  of  excitement  it  might  be,  but  he  said, 
audaciously,  "  It's  a  good  while  since  we  met ! "  and 
he  was  sensible  that  his  audacity  availed. 

"Is  it?"  she  asked.  He  put  himself  at  her  side, 
and  he  did  not  leave  her  again  till  he  went  to  dress 
for  the  struggle  around  the  Tree.  He  found  himself 
easily  included  in  the  adventurous  young  matron'js 
party.  He  had  not  the  elegance  of  some  of  the  taller 
and  slenderer  men  in  the  scholar's  gown,  but  the  cap 
became  his  handsome  face.  His  affair  with  Bessie 
Lynde  had  given  him  a  certain  note,  and  an  adventur 
ous  young  matron,  who  was  naturally  a  little  indis 
criminate,  might  very  well  have  been  willing  to  let  him 
go  about  with  her  party.  She  could  not  know  how 
impudent  his  mere  presence  was  with  reference  to 
Bessie,  and  the  girl  herself  made  no  sign  that  could 
have  enlightened  her.  She  accepted  something  more 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  379 

than  her  share  of  his  general  usefulness  to  the  party ; 
she  danced  with  him  whenever  he  asked  her,  and  she 
seemed  not  to  scruple  to  publish  her  affair  with  him 
in  the  openest  manner.  If  he  could  have  stilled  a 
certain  shame  for  her  which  he  felt,  he  would  have 
thought  he  was  having  the  best  kind  of  time.  They 
made  no  account  of  bygones  in  their  talk,  but  she  had 
never  been  so  brilliant,  or  prompted  him  to  so  many 
of  the  effronteries  which  were  the  spirit  of  his  humor. 
He  thought  her  awfully  nice,  with  lots  of  sense ;  he 
liked  her  letting  him  come  back  without  any  fooling 
or  fuss,  and  he  began  to  admire  instead  of  despising 
her  for  it.  Decidedly  it  was,  as  she  would  have  said, 
the  chicquest  sort  of  thing.  What  was  the  use,  any 
way  ?  He  made  up  his  mind. 

When  he  said  he  must  go  and  dress  for  the  Tree, 
he  took  leave  of  her  first,  and  he  was  aware  of  a  vivid 
emotion,  which  was  like  regret  in  her  at  parting  with 
him.  She  said,  Must  he  ?  She  seemed  to  want  to 
say  something  more  to  him ;  while  he  was  dismissing 
himself  from  the  others,  he  noticed  that  once  or  twice 
she  opened  her  lips  as  if  she  were  going  to  speak.  In 
the  end  she  did  nothing  more  important  than  to  ask 
if  he  had  seen  her  brother ;  but  after  he  had  left  the 
party  he  turned  and  saw  her  following  him  with  eyes 
that  he  fancied  anxious  and  even  frightened  in  their 
gaze. 

The  riot  round  the  Tree  roared  itself  through  its 
wonted  events.  Class  after  class  of  the  undergradu 
ates  filed  in  and  sank  upon  the  grass  below  the  ter 
races  and  parterres  of  brilliantly  dressed  ladies  within 


380  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

the  quadrangle  of  seats ;  the  alumni  pushed  them 
selves  together  against  the  wall  of  Ilolden  Chapel ;  the 
men  of  the  Senior  class  came  last  in  their  grotesque 
variety  of  sweaters  and  second  and  third  best  clothes 
for  the  scramble  at  the  Tree.  The  regulation  cheers 
tore  from  throats  that  grew  hoarser  and  hoarser,  till 
every  class  and  every  favorite  in  the  faculty  had  been 
cheered.  Then  the  signal-hat  was  flung  into  the  air, 
and  the  rush  at  the  Tree  was  made,  and  the  combat 
for  the  flowers  that  garlanded  its  burly  waist  began. 

Jeff's  size  and  shape  forbade  him  to  try  for  the 
flowers  from  the  shoulders  of  others.  lie  was  one  of 
a  group  of  jays  who  set  their  backs  to  the  Tree,  and 
fought  away  all  comers  except  their  own ;  they  pulled 
down  every  man  not  of  their  sort,  and  put  up  a  jay 
who  stripped  the  Tree  of  its  flowers  arid  flung  them 
to  his  fellows  below.  As  he  was  let  drop  to  the 
ground,  Jeff  snatched  a  handful  of  his  spoil  from  him, 
and  made  off  with  it  towards  the  place  where  he  had 
seen  Bessie  Lynde  and  her  party.  But  when  he 
reached  the  place,  shouldering  and  elbowing  his  way 
through  the  press,  she  was  no  longer  there.  He  saw 
her  hat  at  a  distance  through  the  crowd,  where  he  did 
not  choose  to  follow,  and  he  stuffed  the  flowers  into 
his  breast  to  give  her  later.  He  expected  to  meet  her 
somewhere  in  the  evening ;  if  not,  he  would  try  to 
find  her  at  her  aunt's  house  in  town ;  failing  that,  he 
could  send  her  the  flowers,  and  trust  her  for  some  sort 
of  leading  acknowledgment. 

lie  went  and  had  a  bath  and  dressed  himself 
freshly,  and  then  he  went  for  a  walk  in  the  still  even- 


SUDDENLY   HE  FELT  A   FIERY   STING  ON   HIS   FOREHEAD 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  381 

ing  air:  He  was  very  hot  from  the  battle  which  had 
been  fought  over  him,  and  which  he  had  shared  with 
all  his  strength,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  could 
not  get  cool.  He  strolled  far  out  along  Concord  Ave 
nue,  beyond  the  expanses  and  ice-houses  of  Fresh 
Pond,  into  the  country  towards  Belmont,  with  his  hat 
off  and  his  head  down.  He  was  very  well  satisfied, 
and  he  was  smiling  to  himself  at  the  ease  of  his  return 
to  Bessie,  and  securely  speculating  upon  the  outcome 
of  their  renewed  understanding. 

He  heard  a  vehicle  behind  him,  rapidly  driven,  and 
he  turned  out  for  it  without  looking  around.  Then 
suddenly  he  felt  a  fiery  sting  on  his  forehead,  and 
then  a  shower  of  stings  swiftly  following  each  other 
over  his  head  and  face.  He  remembered  stumbling, 
when  he  was  a  boy,  into  a  nest  of  yellow-jackets,  that 
swarmed  up  around  him  and  pierced  him  like  sparks 
of  fire  at  every  uncovered  point.  But  he  knew  at  the 
same  time  that  it  was  some  one  in  the  vehicle  beside 
him  who  was  lashing  him  over  the  head  with  a  whip. 
He  bowed  his  head  with  his  eyes  shut  and  lunged 
blindly  out  towards  his  assailant,  hoping  to  seize  him. 

But  the  horse  sprang  aside,  and  tore  past  him  down 
the  road.  Jeff  opened  his  eyes,  and  through  the 
blood  that  dripped  from  the  cuts  above  them  he  saw 
the  wicked  face  of  Alan  Lynde  looking  back  at  him 
from  the  dog-cart  where  he  sat  with  his  man  beside 
him.  He  brandished  his  broken  whip  in  the  air,  and 
flung  it  into  the  bushes,  Jeff  walked  on,  and  picked 
it  up,  before  he  turned  aside  to  the  pools  of  the  marsh 
stretching  on  either  hand,  arid  tried  to  stanch  his 


382  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

hurts,  and  get  himself  into  shape  for  returning  to 
town  and  stealing  back  to  his  lodging.  He  had  to 
wait  till  after  dark,  and  watch  his  chance  to  get  into 
the  house  unnoticed. 


XLVI1I. 

THE  chum  to  whom  Jeff  confided  the  story  of  his 
encounter  with  a  man  he  left  nameless  inwardly 
thanked  fortune  that  he  was  not  that  man;  for  he 
knew  him  destined  sooner  or  later  to  make  such  repa 
ration  for  the  injuries  he  had  inflicted  as  Jeff  chose  to 
exact.  He  tended  him  carefully,  and  respected  the 
reticence  Jeff  guarded  concerning  the  whole  matter, 
even  with  the  young  doctor  whom  his  friend  called, 
and  who  kept  to  himself  his  impressions  of  the  nature 
of  Jeff's  injuries. 

Jeff  lay  in  his  darkened  room,  and  burned  with 
them,  and  with  the  thoughts,  guesses,  purposes  which 
flamed  through  his  mind.  Had  she,  that  girl,  known 
what  her  brother  meant  to  do?  Had  she  wished  him 
to  think  of  her  in  the  moment  of  his  punishment,  and 
had  she  spoken  of  her  brother  so  that  he  might  recall 
her,  or  had  she  had  some  ineffective  impulse  to  warn 
him  against  her  brother  when  she  spoke  of  him  ? 

lie  lay  and  raged  in  vain  with  his  conjectures,  and 
he  did  a  thousand  imagined  murders  upon  Lynde  in 
revenge  of  his  shame. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  week,  while  his  hurts  were 


384  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

still  too  evident  to  allow  him  to  go  out-of-doors  before 
dark,  he  had  a  note  from  Westover  asking  him  to 
come  in  at  once  to  see  him. 

"  Your  brother  Jackson,"  Westover  wrote,  **  reached 
Boston  by  the  New  York  train  this  morning,  and  is 
with  me  here.  I  must  tell  you  I  think  he  is  not  at 
all  well,  but  he  does  not  know  how  sick  he  is,  and  so 
I  forewarn  you.  He  wants  to  get  on  home,  but  I  do 
not  feel  easy  about  letting  him  make  the  rest  of  the 
journey  alone.  Some  one  ought  to  go  with  him.  I 
write  not  knowing  whether  you  are  still  in  Cambridge 
or  not ;  or  whether,  if  you  are,  you  can  get  away  at 
this  time.  But  I  think  you  ought,  and  I  wish,  at  any 
rate,  that  you  would  come  in  at  once  and  see  Jackson. 
Then  we  can  settle  what  had  best  be  done." 

Jeff  wrote  back  that  he  had  been  suffering  with  a 
severe  attack  of  erysipelas — he  decided  upon  erysipe 
las  for  the  time  being,  but  he  meant  to  let  Westover 
know  later  that  he  had  been  in"  a  row — and  the  doctor 
would  not  let  him  go  out  yet.  He  promised  to  come 
in  as  soon  as  he  possibly  could.  If  Westover  thought 
Jackson  ought  to  be  got  home  at  once,  and  was  not  fit 
to  travel  alone,  he  asked  him  to  send  a  hospital  nurse 
with  him. 

Westover  replied  by  Jeffs  messenger  that  it  would 
worry  and  alarm  Jackson  to  be  put  in  charge  of  a 
nurse;  but  that  he  would  go  home  with  him,  and  they 
would  start  the  next  day.  lie  ur^vd  Jeff  to  come  and 
see  his  brother  if  it  was  at  all  safe  for  him  to  do  so. 
But  if  he  could  not,  Westover  would  give  his  mother 
a  reassuring  reason  for  his  failure. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  385 

Mrs.  Dtirgin  did  not  waste  any  anxiety  for  the  sick 
ness  which  prevented  Jeff  from  coming  home  with  his 
brother.  She  said  ironically  that  it  must  be  very 
bad,  and  she  gave  all  her  thought  and  care  to  Jackson. 
The  sick  man  rallied,  as  he  prophesied  he  should,  in 
his  native  air,  and  celebrated  the  sense  and  science  of 
the  last  doctor  he  had  seen  in  Europe,  who  told  him 
that  he  had  made  a  great  gain,  but  he  had  better 
hurry  home  as  fast  as  he  could,  for  he  had  got  all  the 
advantage  he  could  expect  to  have  from  his  stay 
abroad,  and  now  home  air  was  the  best  thing  for  him. 

It  could  not  be  known  how  much  of  this  he  be 
lieved  ;  he  had,  at  any  rate,  the  pathetic  hopefulness 
of  his  malady ;  but  his  mother  believed  it  all,  and  she 
nursed  him  with  a  faith  in  his  recovery  which  Whit- 
well  confided  to  Westover  was  about  as  much  as  he 
wanted  to  see,  for  one  while.  She  seemed  to  grow 
younger  in  the  care  of  him,  and  to  get  back  to  her 
self,  more  and  more,  from  the  facts  of  Jeff's  behavior, 
which  had  aged  and  broken  her.  She  had  to  tell 
Jackson  about  it  all,  but  he  took  it  with  that  indiffer 
ence  to  the  things  of  this  world  which  the  approach 
of  death  sometimes  brings,  and  in  the  light  of  his 
passivity  it  no  longer  seemed  to  her  so  very  bad.  It 
was  a  relief  to  have  Jackson  say,  Well,  perhaps  it  was 
for  the  best;  and  it  was  a  comfort  to  see  how  he  and 
Cynthia  took  to  each  other ;  it  was  almost  as  if  that 
dreadful  trouble  had  not  been.  She  told  Jackson 
what  hard  work  she  had  had  to  make  Cynthia  stay 
with  her,  and  how  the  girl  had  consented  to  stay  only 
until  Jeff  came  home ;  but  she  guessed,  now  that  Jack- 
Y 


886  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

son  had  got  back,  lie  could  make  Cynthia  see  it  all  in 
another  light,  and  perhaps  it  would  all  come  right 
again.  She  consulted  him  about  Jeff's  plan  of  going 
abroad,  and  Jackson  said  it  might  be  about  as  well ; 
he  should  soon  be  around,  and  he  thought  if  Jeff 
went  it  would  give  Cynthia  more  of  a  chance  to  get 
reconciled.  After  all,  his  mother  suggested,  a  good 
many  fellows  behaved  worse  than  Jeff  had  done  and 
still  had  made  it  up  with  the  girls  they  were  engaged 
to ;  and  Jackson  gently  assented. 

He  did  not  talk  with  Cynthia  about  Jeff,  out  of 
that  delicacy,  or  that  coldness,  common  to  them  both. 
Perhaps  it  was  not  necessary  for  them  to  speak  of 
him ;  perhaps  they  understood  him  aright  in  their  un 
derstanding  of  each  other. 

Westover  stayed  on,  day  after  day,  thinking  some 
how  that  he  ought  to  wait  till  Jeff  came.  There  were 
only  a  few  other  people  in  the  hotel,  and  these  were 
of  a  quiet  sort ;  they  were  not  saddened  by  the  pres 
ence  of  a  doomed  man  under  the  same  roof,  as  gayer 
summer-folks  might  have  been,  and  they  were  them 
selves  no  disturbance  to  him. 

He  sat  about  with  them  on  the  veranda,  and  he  made 
friends  among  them,  and  they  did  what  they  could 
to  encourage  and  console  him  in  his  impatience  to 
take  up  his  old  cares  in  the  management  of  the  hotel. 
The  Whitwells  easily  looked  after  the  welfare  of  the 
guests,  and  Jackson  was  so  much  better  to  every  one's 
perception  that  Westover  could  honestly  write  Jeff  a 
good  report  of  him. 

The  report  may  have  been  so  good  that  Jeff  took 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  387 

the  affair  too  easily.  It  was  a  fortnight  after  Jack 
son's  return  to  Lion's  Head  when  he  began  to  fail  so 
suddenly  and  alarmingly  that  Westover  decided  upon 
his  own  responsibility  to  telegraph  Jeff  of  his  condi 
tion.  But  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  Whitwell's  ap 
proval  when  he  told  him  what  he  had  done. 

"Of  course,  Jackson  a'n't  long  for  this  world. 
Anybody  but  him  and  his  mother  could  see  that;  and 
now  he's  just  melting  away,  as  you  might  say.  I 
ha'n't  liked  his  not  carin'  to  work  plantchette  since  he 
got  back ;  looked  to  me  from  the  start  that  he  kind  of 
knowed  that  it  wa'n't  worth  while  for  him  to  trouble 
about  a  world  that  he'll  know  all  about  so  soon,  any 
ways  ;  and  d'  you  notice  he  don't  seem  to  care  about 
Mars,  either?  I've  tried  to  wake  him  up  on  it  two- 
three  times,  but  you  can't  git  him  to  take  an  interest. 
I  guess  Jeff  can't  git  here  any  too  soon  on  Jackson's 
account ;  but  as  far  forth  as  I  go,  he  couldn't  git  here 
too  late.  I  should  like  to  take  the  top  of  his  head 
off." 

Westover  had  been  in  Whitwell's  confidence  since 
their  first  chance  of  speech  together.  He  now  said, 
"  I  know  it  will  be  rather  painful  to  you  to  have  him 
here  for  some  reasons,  but — 

"  You  mean  Cynthy  ?  Well !  I  guess  when  Cynthy 
can't  get  along  with  the  sight  of  Jeff  Durgin,  she'll  be 
a  different  girl  from  what  she's  ever  been  before.  If 
she's  got  to  see  that  skunk  ag'in,  I  guess  this  is  about 
the  best  time  to  do  it." 

It  was  AVestover  who  drove  to  meet  Jeff  at  the  sta 
tion,  when  he  got  his  dispatch,  naming  the  train  he 


388  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

would  take,  and  he  found  him  looking  very  well,  and 
perhaps  stouter  than  he  had  been. 

They  left  the  station  in  silence,  after  their  greeting 
and  Jeff's  inquiries  about  Jackson.  Jeff  had  taken 
the  reins,  and  now  he  put  them  with  the  whip  in  one 
hand,  and  pushed  up  his  hat  with  the  other,  and 
turned  his  face  full  upon  Westover.  "  Notice  any 
thing  in  particular  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  No  ;  yes — some  slight  marks." 

"  I  guess  that  fellow  fixed  me  up  pretty  well :  paints 
black  eyes,  and  that  kind  of  thing.  I  got  to  scrap 
ping  with  a  man,  Class  Day ;  we  wanted  to  settle  a 
little  business  we  began  at  the  Tree,  and  he  left  his 
marks  on  me.  I  meant  to  tell  you  the  truth  as  soon 
as  I  could  get  at  you ;  but  I  had  to  say  erysipelas  in 
my  letter.  I  guess,  if  you  don't  mind,  we'll  let  ery 
sipelas  stand,  with  the  rest." 

"  I  shouldn't  have  cared,"  Westover  said,  "  if  you'd 
let  it  stand  with  me." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  Jeff  returned. 

There  could  have  been  no  show  of  affection  at  his 
meeting  with  Jackson  even  if  there  had  been  any  fact 
of  it ;  that  was  not  the  law  of  their  life.  But  Jeff  had 
always  been  a  turbulent,  rebellious  younger  brother, 
resentful  of  Jackson's  control,  too  much  his  junior  to 
have  the  associations  of  an  equal  companionship  in  the 
past,  and  yet  too  near  him  in  age  to  have  anything 
like  a  filial  regard  for  him.  They  shook  hands,  and 
each  asked  the  other  how  he  was,  and  then  they 
seemed  to  have  done  with  each  other.  Jeff's  mother 
kissed  him  in  addition  to  the  handshaking,  but  made 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  389 

him  feel  her  preoccupation  with  Jackson ;  she  asked 
him  if  he  had  hurried  home  on  Jackson's  account,  and 
he  promptly  lied  her  out  of  this  anxiety. 

He  shook  hands  with  Cynthia,  too,  but  it  was  across 
the  barrier  which  had  not  been  lowered  between  them 
since  they  parted.  He  spoke  to  Jackson  about  her, 
the  day  after  he  came  home,  when  Jackson  said  he 
was  feeling  unusually  strong  and  well,  and  the  two 
brothers  had  strolled  out  through  the  orchard  togeth 
er.  Now  and  then  he  gave  the  sick  man  his  arm,  and 
when  he  wanted  to  sit  down  in  a  sunny  place,  he 
spread  the  shawl  he  carried  for  him. 

"  I  suppose  mother's  told  you  about  Cynthy  and 
me,  Jackson  ?  "  he  began. 

Jackson  answered,  with  lack-lustre  eyes,  "  Yes." 
Presently  he  asked,  "  What's  become  of  the  other  girl  ? " 

"  Damn  her !  I  don't  know  what's  become  of  her, 
and  I  don't  care ! "  Jeff  exploded,  furiously. 

"  Then  you  don't  care  for  her  any  more  ? "  Jackson 
pursued,  with  the  same  languid  calm. 

"  I  never  cared  for  her." 

Jackson  was  silent,  and  the  matter  seemed  to  have 
faded  out  of  his  mind.  But  it  was  keenly  alive  in 
Jeff's  mind,  and  he  was  in  the  strange  necessity  which 
men  in  the  flush  of  life  and  health  often  feel  of  seek 
ing  counsel  of  those  who  stand  in  the  presence  of 
death,  as  if  their  words  should  have  something  of  the 
mystical  authority  of  the  unknown  wisdom  they  are 
about  to  penetrate. 

"  What  /  want  to  know  is,  what  I  am  going  to  do 
about  Cynthy  ? " 


390  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Jackson  answered,  vaguely,  and  he 
expressed  by  his  indirection  the  sense  he  must  some 
times  have  had  of  his  impending  fate — "  I  don't  know 
what  she's  going  to  do,  her  or  mother,  either." 

"Yes,"  Jeff  assented,  "that's  what  I  think  of. 
And  I'd  do  anything  that  I  could — that  you  thought 
was  right." 

Jackson  apparently  concentrated  his  mind  upon  the 
question  by  an  effort.  "  Do  you  care  as  much  for 
Cynthy  as  you  used  to  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Jeff,  after  a  moment,  "as  much  as  I 
ever  did ;  and  more.  But  I've  been  thinking,  since 
the  thing  happened,  that,  if  I'd  cared  for  her  the  way 
she  did  for  me,  it  wouldn't  have  happened.  Look 
here,  Jackson !  You  know  I've  never  pretended  to 
be  like  some  men — like  Mr.  Westover,  for  example — 
always  looking  out  for  the  right  and  the  wrong,  and 
all  that.  I  didn't  make  myself,  and  I  guess  if  the 
Almighty  don't  make  me  go  right  it's  because  he 
don't  want  me  to.  But  I  have  got  a  conscience  about 
Cynthy,  and  I'd  be  willing  to  help  out  a  little  if  I 
knew  how,  about  her.  The  devil  of  it  is,  I've  got  to 
being  afraid.  I  don't  mean  that  I'm  not  fit  for  her; 
any  man's  fit  for  any  woman  if  he  wants  her  bad 
enough ;  but  I'm  afraid  I  sha'n't  ever  care  for  her  in 
.the  right  way.  That's  the  point.  I've  cared  for  just 
one  woman  in  this  world,  and  it  a'n't  Cynthy,  as  far 
as  I  can  make  out.  But  she's  gone,  and  I  guess  I 
could  coax  Cynthy  round  again,  and  I  could  be  what 
she  wants  me  to  be,  after  this." 

Jackson  lay  upon  his  shawl,  looking  up  at  the  sky 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  391 

full  of  islands  of  warm  clouds  in  its  sea  of  blue;  he 
was  silent  so  long  that  Jeff  began  to  think  he  had  not 
been  listening ;  he  could  not  hear  him  breathe,  and  he 
came  forward  to  him  quickly  from  the  shadow  of  the 
tree  where  he  sat. 

"  Well  ?  "  Jackson  whispered,  turning  his  eyes  upon 
him. 

"Well?"  Jeff  returned. 

"  I  guess  you'd  better  let  it  alone,"  said  Jackson. 

"  All  right.     That's  what  I  think,  too." 


XLIX. 

JACKSON  died  a  week  later,  and  they  buried  him 
in  the  old  family  lot  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  or 
chard.  His  mother  and  Cynthia  put  on  mourning 
for  him,  and  they  stood  together  by  his  open  grave, 
Mrs.  Durgin  leaning  upon  her  son's  arm  and  the  girl 
upon  her  father's.  The  woman  wept  quietly,  but 
Jeff's  eyes  were  dry,  though  his  face  was  discharged 
of  all  its  prepotent  impudence.  Westover,  standing 
across  the  grave  from  him,  noticed  the  marks  on  his 
forehead  that  he  said  were  from  his  scrapping,  and 
wondered  what  really  made  them.  He  recognized 
the  spot  where  they  were  standing  as  that  where  the 
boy  had  obeyed  the  law  of  his  nature  and  revenged 
the  stress  put  upon  him  for  righteousness.  Over  the 
stone  of  the  nearest  grave  Jeff  had  shown  a  face  of 
triumphant  derision  when  he  pelted  Westover  with 
apples.  The  painter's  mind  fell  into  a  chaos  of  con 
jecture  and  misgiving,  so  that  he  scarcely  took  in  the 
words  of  the  composite  service  which  the  minister 
from  the  Union  Chapel  at  the  Huddle  read  over  the 
dead. 

Some  of  the  guests  from  the  hotel  came  to  the  fu- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  393 

neral,  but  others  who  were  not  in  good  health  re 
mained  away,  and  there  was  a  general  sense  among 
them,  which  imparted  itself  to  Westover,  that  Jack 
son's  dying  so,  at  the  beginning  of  the  season,  was 
not  a  fortunate  incident.  As  he  sat  talking  with 
Jeff  at  a  corner  of  the  piazza  late  in  the  afternoon, 
Frank  Whitwell  came  up  to  them  and  said  there  were 
some  people  in  the  office  who  had  driven  over  from 
another  hotel  to  see  about  board,  but  they  had  heard 
there  was  sickness  in  the  house,  and  wished  to  talk 
with  him. 

"  I  won't  come,"  said  Jeff. 

"  They're  not  satisfied  with  what  I've  said,"  the 
boy  urged.  "  What  shall  I  tell  them  ?  " 

"  Tell  them  to— go  to  the  devil,"  said  Jeff,  and 
when  Frank  Whitwell  made  off  with  this  message  for 
delivery  in  such  decent  terms  as  he  could  imagine  for 
it,  Jeff  said,  rather  to  himself  than  to  Westover,  "  I 
don't  see  how  we're  going  to  run  this  hotel  with  that 
old  family  lot  down  there  in  the  orchard,  much 
longer." 

He  assumed  the  air  of  full  authority  at  Lion's 
Head ;  and  Westover  felt  the  stress  of  a  painful  con 
jecture  in  regard  to  the  Whitwells  intensified  upon 
him  from  the  moment  he  turned  away  from  Jackson's 
grave. 

Cynthia  and  her  father  had  gone  back  to  their  own 
house  as  soon  as  Jeff  returned,  and  though  the  girl 
came  home  with  Mrs.  Durgin  after  the  funeral,  and 
helped  her  in  their  common  duties  through  the  after 
noon  and  evening,  Westover  saw  her  taking  her  way 


894  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

down  the  hill  with  her  brother  when  the  long  day's 
work  was  over.  Jeff  saw  her  too ;  he  was  sitting  with 
Westover  at  the  office  door  smoking,  and  he  was  talk 
ing  of  the  Whitwells. 

"  I  suppose  they  won't  stay,"  he  said,  "  and  I  can't 
expect  it ;  but  I  don't  know  what  mother  will  do,  ex 
actly." 

At  the  same  moment  Whitwell  came  round  the  cor 
ner  of  the  hotel  from  the  barn,  and  approached  them. 
"  Jeff,  I  guess  I  better  tell  you  straight  off  that  we're 
goin',  the  children  and  me." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Whitwell,"  said  Jeff,  with  respect 
ful  gravity,  "  I  was  afraid  of  it." 

Westover  made  a  motion  to  rise,  but  Whitwell  laid 
a  detaining  hand  upon  his  knee.  "  There  ain't  any 
thing  so  private  about  it,  so  far  as  I  know." 

"Don't  go,  Mr.  Westover,"  said  Jeff,  and  WTestover 
remained. 

"We  a'n't  a-goin'  to  leave  you  in  the  lurch,  and 
we  want  you  should  take  your  time,  especially  Mis' 
Durgin.  But  the  sooner  the  better.  Heigh?" 

"Yes,  I  understand  that,  Mr.  Whitwell;  I  guess 
mother  will  miss  you,  but  if  you  must  go,  you  must." 
The  two  men  remained  silent  a  moment,  and  then 
Jeff  broke  out  passionately,  rising  and  flinging  his 
cigar  away :  "  I  wish  I  could  go,  instead  !  That  would 
be  the  right  way,  and  I  guess  mother  would  like  it 
full  as  well.  Do  you  see  any  way  to  manage  it  ? " 
He  put  his  foot  up  in  his  chair,  and  dropped  his  elbow 
on  his  knee,  with  his  chin  propped  in  his  hand. 
Westover  could  see  that  he  meant  what  he  was  saying. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  395 

"If  there  was  any  way,  I'd  do  it.  I  know  what  you 
think  of  me,  and  I  should  be  just  like  you,  in  your 
place.  I  don't  feel  right  to  turn  you  out  here,  I  don't, 
Mr.  Whitwell,  and  yet  if  I  stay,  I've  got  to  do  it. 
What's  the  reason  I  can't  go  ?  " 

"  You  can't,"  said  Whitwell,  "  and  that's  all  about 
it.  We  shouldn't  let  you,  if  you  could.  But  I  a'n't 
surprised  you  feel  the  way  you  do,"  he  added,  un 
sparingly.  "As  you  say,  I  should  feel  just  so  my 
self  if  I  was  in  your  place.  Well,  good-night,  Mr. 
Westover." 

Whitwell  turned  and  slouched  down  the  hill,  leav 
ing  the  painter  to  the  most  painful  moment  he  had 
known  with  Jeff  Durgin,  and  nearer  sympathy. 
"That's  all  right,  Mr.  Westover,"  Jeff  said,  "I  don't 
blame  him." 

He  remained  in  a  constraint  from  which  he  pres 
ently  broke  with  mocking  hilarity  when  Jombateeste 
came  round  the  corner  of  the  house,  as  if  he  had  been 
waiting  for  Whitwell  to  be  gone,  and  told  Jeff  he 
must  get  somebody  else  to  look  after  the  horses. 

"Why  don't  you  wait  and  take  the  horses  with 
you,  Jombateeste?"  he  inquired.  "They'll  be  hand 
ing  in  their  resignation,  the  next  thing.  Why  not  go 
altogether  ? " 

The  little  Canuck  paused,  as  if  uncertain  whether 
he  was  made  the  object  of  unfriendly  derision  or  not, 
and  looked  at  Westover  for  help.  Apparently  he  de 
cided  to  chance  it  in  as  bitter  an  answer  as  he  could 
invent.  "  The  'oss  can't  'elp  'imself ,  Mr.  Durgin.  'E 
stay.  But  you  don'  hown  everybody." 


396  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"That's  so,  Jombateeste,"  said  Jeff.  "That's  a 
good  hit.  It  makes  me  feel  awfully.  Have  a  cigar  ? " 
The  Canuck  declined  with  a  dignified  bow,  and  Jeff 
said:  "  You  don't  smoke  any  more?  Oh,  I  see  !  It's 
my  tobacco  you're  down  on.  What's  the  matter, 
Jombateeste  ?  What  are  you  going  away  for  ?  "  Jeff 
lighted  for  himself  the  cigar  the  Canuck  had  refused, 
and  smoked  down  upon  the  little  man. 

"  Mr.  W'itwell  goin',"  Jombateeste  said,  a  little 
confused  and  daunted. 

"  What's  Mr.  Whitwell  going  for?  " 

"  You  hask  Mr.  W'itwell." 

"  All  right.  And  if  I  can  get  him  to  stay  will  you 
stay  too,  Jombateeste  ?  I  don't  like  to  see  a  rat  leav 
ing  a  ship ;  the  ship's  sure  to  sink,  if  he  does.  How 
do  you  suppose  I'm  going  to  run  Lion's  Head  without 
you  to  throw  down  hay  to  the  horses  ?  It  will  be  ruin 
to  me,  sure,  Jombateeste.  All  the  guests  know  how 
you  play  on  the  pitchfork  out  there,  and  they'll  leave 
in  a  body  if  they  hear  you've  quit.  Do  say  you'll 
stay,  and  I'll  reduce  your  wages  one  half  on  the  spot." 

Jombateeste  waited  to  hear  no  more  injuries.  lie 
said,  "  You'll  don'  got  money  enough,  Mr.  Durgin,  by 
gosh !  to  reduce  my  wages,"  and  he  started  down  the 
hill  towards  Whitwell's  house  with  as  great  loftiness  as 
could  comport  with  a  downhill  gait  and  his  stature. 

"  Well,  I  seem  to  be  getting  it  all  round,  Mr.  West- 
over,"  said  Jeff.  "  This  must  make  you  feel  good. 
I  don't  know  but  I  begin  to  believe  there's  a  God  in 
Israel,  myself." 

He  walked    away  without  saying  good-night,  and 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  397 

Westover  went  to  bed  without  the  chance  of  setting 
himself  right.  In  the  morning,  when  he  came  down 
to  breakfast,  and  stopped  at  the  desk  to  engage  a  con 
veyance  for  the  station  from  Frank  Whitwell,  the  boy 
forestalled  him  with  a  grave  face.  "  You  don't  know 
about  Mrs.  Durgin  ? " 

"  No  ;  what  about  her  ? " 

"  Well,  we  can't  tell  exactly.  Father  thinks  it's  a 
shock ;  Jombateeste's  gone  over  to  Lovewell  for  the 
doctor.  Cynthia's  with  her.  It  seemed  to  come  on 
in  the  night." 

He  spoke  softly,  that  no  one  else  might  hear ;  but 
by  noon  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Durgin  had  been  stricken 
with  paralysis  was  all  over  the  place.  The  gloom 
cast  upon  the  opening  season  by  Jackson's  death  was 
deepened  among  the  guests.  Some  who  had  talked 
of  staying  through  July  went  away  that  day.  But 
under  Cynthia's  management  the  housekeeping  was 
really  unaffected  by  Mrs.  Durgin's  calamity,  and  the 
people  who  stayed  found  themselves  as  comfortable  as 
ever.  Jeff  came  fully  into  the  hotel  management,  and 
in  their  business  relation  Cynthia  and  he  were  contin 
ually  together ;  there  was  no  longer  a  question  of  the 
Whitwells  leaving  him  ;  even  Jombateeste  persuaded 
himself  to  stay,  and  Westover  felt  obliged  to  remain 
at  least  till  the  present  danger  in  Mrs.  Durgin's  case 
was  past. 

With  the  first  return  of  physical  strength,  Mrs. 
Durgin  was  impatient  to  be  seen  about  the  house,  and 
to  retrieve  the  season  that  her  affliction  had  made  so 
largely  a  loss.  The  people  who  had  become  accus- 


398  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

tomed  to  it  stayed  on,  and  the  house  filled  up,  as  she 
grew  better,  but  even  the  sight  of  her  in  a  wheeled 
chair  did  not  bring  back  the  prosperity  of  other  years. 
She  lamented  over  it  with  a  keen  and  full  perception 
of  the  fact,  but  in  a  cloudy  association  of  it  with  the 
joint  future  of  Jeff  and  Cynthia. 

One  day,  after  Mrs.  Durgin  had  declared  that  she 
did  not  know  what  they  were  to  do,  if  things  kept 
on  as  they  were  going,  AVhitwell  asked  his  daughter, 
"  Do  you  suppose  she  thinks  you  and  Jeff  have  made 
it  up  again  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  troubled  voice, 
"  and  I  don't  know  what  to  do  about  it.  It  don't  seem 
as  if  I  could  tell  her,  and  yet  it's  wrong  to  let  her  go 
on." 

"Why  didn't  he  tell  her?"  demanded  her  father. 
"  'Ta'n't  fair  his  leavin'  it  to  you.  But  it's  like  him  !  " 
The  sick  woman's  hold  upon  the  fact  weakened 
most  when  she  was  tired.  When  she  was  better,  she 
knew  how  it  was  with  them.  Commonly  it  was  when 
Cynthia  had  got  her  to  bed  for  the  night  that  she  sent 
for  Jeff,  and  wished  to  ask  him  what  he  was  going  to 
do.  "  You  can't  expect  Cynthy  to  stay  here  another 
winter  helpiu'  you,  with  Jackson  away.  You've  got 
to  either  take  her  with  you,  or  else  come  here  your 
self.  Give  up  your  last  year  in  college,  why  don't 
you  ?  /  don't  want  you  should  stay,  and  I  don't  know 
who  does.  If  I  was  in  Cynthia's  place,  I'd  let  you 
work  off  your  own  conditions  now,  you've  give  up  the 
law.  She'll  kill  herself,  tryin'  to  keep  you  along." 
Sometimes  her  speech  became  so  indistinct  that  no 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  399 

one  but  Cynthia  could  make  it  out ;  and  Jeff,  listening 
with  a  face  as  nearly  discharged  as  might  be  of  its 
laughing  irony,  had  to  turn  to  Cynthia  for  the  word 
which  no  one  else  could  catch,  and  which  the  stricken 
woman  remained  distressfully  waiting  for  her  to  re 
peat  to  him,  with  her  anxious  eyes  upon  the  girl's  face. 
He  was  dutifully  patient  with  all  his  mother's  whims. 
He  came  whenever  she  sent  for  him,  and  sat  quiet 
under  the  severities  with  which  she  visited  all  his  past 
unworthiness.  "Who  you  been  hectorin'  now,  I 
should  like  to  know,"  she  began  on  him  one  even 
ing  when  he  came  at  her  summons.  "  Between  you 
and  Fox,  I  got  no  peace  of  my  life.  Where  is  the 
dog?" 

"  Fox  is  all  right,  mother,"  Jeff  responded.  "  You're 
feeling  a  little  better  to-night,  a'n't  you  ? " 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  can't  tell,"  she  returned,  with  a 
gleam  of  intelligence  in  her  eye.  Then  she  said,  "  I 
don't  see  why  I'm  left  to  strangers  all  the  time." 

"  You  don't  call  Cynthia  a  stranger,  do  you,  moth 
er  ? "  he  asked,  coaxingly. 

"  Oh, — Cynthy  !  "  said  Mrs.  Durgin,  with  a  glance 
as  of  surprise  at  seeing  her.  "  No,  Cynthy's  all  right. 
But  where's  Jackson  and  your  father  ?  If  I've  told 
them  not  to  be  out  in  the  dew  once,  I've  toid  'em  a 
hundred  times.  Cynthy'd  better  look  after  her  house- 
keepin'  if  she  don't  want  the  whole  place  to  run  be 
hind,  and  not  a  soul  left  in  the  house.  What  time 
o'  year  is  it  now  ? "  she  suddenly  asked,  after  a  little 
weary  pause. 

"  It's  the  last  of  August,  mother." 


400  THE    LATTDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Oh,"  she  sighed,  "  I  thought  it  was  the  beginnin' 
of  May.  Didn't  you  come  up  here  in  May  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  then —  Or,  mebbe  that's  one  o'  them  tor- 
mentin'  dreams ;  they  do  pester  so  !  What  did  you 
come  for?" 

Jeff  was  sitting  on  one  side  of  her  bed  and  Cynthia 
on  the  other.  She  was  looking  at  the  sufferer's  face, 
and  she  did  not  meet  the  glance  of  amusement  which 
Jeff  turned  upon  her  at  being  so  fairly  cornered. 
"Well,  I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "I  thought  you 
might  like  to  see  me." 

"  What'  d  he  come  for  ?  " — the  sick  woman  turned 
to  Cynthia. 

"You'd  better  tell  her,"  said  the  girl,  coldly,  to 
Jeff.  "  She  won't  be  satisfied  till  you  do.  She'll 
keep  coming  back  to  it." 

"  Well,  mother,"  said  Jeff,  still  with  something  of 
his  hardy  amusement,  "  I  hadn't  been  acting  just 
right,  and  I  thought  I'd  better  tell  Cynthy." 

.."  You  better  let  the  child  alone.  If  I  ever  catch 
you  teasin'  them  children  again,  I'll  make  Jackson 
shoot  Fox." 

"  All  right,  mother,"  said  Jeff. 

She  moved  herself  restively  in  bed.  "  What's 
this,"  she  demanded  of  her  son,  "  that  Whit'ell's 
tellin'  about  you  and  Cynthy  breakin'  it  off?" 

"  Well,  there  was  talk  of  that,"  said  Jeff,  passing 
his  hand  over  his  lips  to  keep  back  the  smile  that  was 
stealing  to  them. 

"  Who  done  it  ?  " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  401 

Cynthia  kept  her  eyes  on  Jeff,  who  dropped  his  to 
his  mother's  face.  "  Cynthy  did  it ;  but  I  guess  I 
gave  her  good  enough  reason  !  " 

"  About  that  hussy  in  Boston  ?  She  was  full  more 
to  blame  than  what  you  was.  I  don't  see  what  Cyn 
thy  wanted  to  do  it  for  on  her  account." 

"  I  guess  Cynthy  was  right." 

Mrs.  Durgin's  speech  had  been  thickening  more  and 
more.  She  now  said  something  that  Jeff  could  not 
understand.  He  looked  involuntarily  at  Cynthia. 

"  She  says  she  thinks  I  was  hasty  with  you,"  the 
girl  interpreted. 

Jeff  kept  his  eyes  on  hers,  but  he  answered  to  his 
mother :  "  Not  any  more  than  I  deserved.  I  hadn't 
any  right  to  expect  that  she  would  stand  it." 

Again  the  sick  woman  tried  to  say  something.  Jeff 
made  out  a  few  syllables,  and  after  his  mother  had 
repeated  her  words,  he  had  to  look  to  Cynthia  for 
help. 

"  She  wants  to  know  if  it's  all  right  now." 

"  What  shall  I  say  ? "  asked  Jeff,  huskily. 

"  Tell  her  the  truth." 

"What  is  the  truth?" 

"  That  we  haven't  made  it  up." 

Jeff  hesitated,  and  then  said :  "  Well,  not  yet, 
mother,"  and  he  bent  an  entreating  look  upon  Cynthia 
which  she  could  not  feel  was  wholly  for  himself.  "  I 
— I  guess  we  can  fix  it,  somehow.  I  behaved  very 
badly  to  Cynthia." 

"  No,  not  to  me ! "  the  girl  protested  in  an  indig 
nant  burst. 
Z 


402  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD 

"  Not  to  that  little  scalawag,  then ! "  cried  Jeff. 
"  If  the  wrong  wasn't  to  you,  there  wasn't  any  wrong." 

"  It  was  to  you  !  "  Cynthia  retorted. 

"  Oh,  I  guess  /  can  stand  it,"  said  Jeff,  and  his 
smile  now  came  to  his  lips  and  eyes. 

His  mother  had  followed  their  quick  parley  with 
eager  looks,  as  if  she  were  trying  to  keep  her  intelli 
gence  to  its  work  concerning  them.  The  effort  seemed 
to  exhaust  her,  and  when  she  spoke  again  her  words 
were  so  indistinct  that  even  Cynthia  could  not  under 
stand  them  till  she  had  repeated  them  several  times. 

Then  the  girl  was  silent,  while  the  invalid  kept  an 
eager  look  upon  her.  She  seemed  to  understand  that 
Cynthia  did  not  mean  to  speak ;  and  the  tears  came 
into  her  eyes. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  know  what  she  said  ? "  asked 
Jeff,  respectfully,  reverently  almost. 

Cynthia  said,  gently,  "  She  says  that  then  you  must 
show  you  didn't  mean  any  harm  to  me,  and  that  you 
cared  for  me,  all  through,  and  you  didn't  care  for 
anybody  else." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Jeff,  and  he  turned  to  his  moth 
er.  "  I'll  do  everything  I  can  to  make  Cynthy  believe 
that,  mother." 

The  girl  broke  into  tears  and  went  out  of  the  room. 
She  sent  in  the  night-watcher,  and  then  Jeff  took  leave 
of  his  mother  with  an  unwonted  kiss. 

Into  the  shadow  of  a  starlit  night  he  saw  the  figure 
he  had  been  waiting  for  glide  out  of  the  glitter  of 
the  hotel  lights.  He  followed  it  down  the  road. 

"  Cynthia,"  he  called  ;  and  when  he  came  up  with 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 


403 


her  he  asked,  "  What's  the  reason  we  can't  make  it 
true  ?  Why  can't  you  believe  what  mother  wants  me 
to  make  you  ?  " 

/Cynthia  stopped,  as  her  wont  was  when  she  wished 
/xo  speak  seriously.     "  Do  you  ask  that  for  my  sake  or 
/hers?" 

"  For  both  your  sakes." 

"  I  thought  so.  You  ought  to  have  asked  it  for 
your  own  sake,  Jeff,  and  then  I  might  have  been  fool 
enough  to  believe  you.  But  now  !  " 

She  started  swiftly  down  the  hill  again,  and  this 
time  he  did  not  try  to  follow  her. 


MRS.  DURGIN'S  speech  never  regained  the  measure 
of  clearness  it  had  before ;  no  one  but  Cynthia  could 
understand  her,  and  often  she  could  not.  The  doctor 
from  Lovewell  surmised  that  she  had  sustained  another 
stroke,  lighter,  more  obscure  than  the  first,  and  it  was 
that  which  had  rendered  her  almost  inarticulate.  The 
paralysis  might  have  also  affected  her  brain,  and 
silenced  her  thoughts  as  well  as  her  words.  Either 
she  believed  that  the  reconciliation  between  Jeff  and 
Cynthia  had  taken  place,  or  else  she  could  no  longer 
care.  She  did  not  question  them  again,  but  peacefully 
weakened  more  and  more.  Near  the  end  of  September 
she  had  a  third  stroke,  and  from  this  she  died. 

The  day  after  the  funeral  Jeff  had  a  talk  with  Whit- 
well,  and  opened  his  mind  to  him. 

"  I'm  going  over  to  the  other  side,  and  I  sha'n't  be 
back  before  spring,  or  about  time  to  start  the  season 
here.  What  I  want  to  know  is  whether,  if  I'm  out  of 
the  house,  and  not  likely  to  come  back,  you'll  stay 
here,  and  look  after  the  place  through  the  winter.  It 
hasn't  been  a  good  season,  but  I  guess  I  can  afford  to 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  405 

make  it  worth  your  while  if  you  look  at  it  as  a  matter 
of  business." 

Whitwell  leaned  forward  and  took  a  straw  into  his 
mouth  from  the  golden  wall  of  oat  sheaves  in  the  barn 
where  they  were  talking.  A  soft  rustling  in  the  mow 
overhead  marked  the  remote  presence  of  Jombateeste, 
who  was  getting  forward  the  hay  for  the  horses,  push 
ing  it  towards  the  holes  where  it  should  fall  into  their 
racks. 

"  I  should  want  to  think  about  it,"  said  Whitwell. 
"  I  do'  know  as  Cynthy'  d  care  much  about  stayin' ;  or 
Frank." 

"  How  long  do  you  want  to  think  about  it  ? "  Jeff 
demanded,  ignoring  the  possible  wishes  of  Cynthia 
and  Frank. 

"I  guess  I  could  let  you  know  by  night." 

"  All  right,"  said  Jeff. 

He  was  turning  away,  when  Whitwell  remarked : 
"  I  don't  know  as  I  should  want  to  stay  without  I 
could  have  somebody  I  could  depend  on,  with  me,  to 
look  after  the  hosses.  Frank  wouldn't  want  to." 

"  Who'd  you  like  ?  " 

«  Well, — Jombateeste." 

"  Ask  him." 

Whitwell  called  to  the  Canuck,  and  he  came  for 
ward  to  the  edge  of  the  mow,  and  stood,  fork  in 
hand,  looking  down. 

"  Want  to  stay  here  this  winter  and  look  after  the 
hosses,  Jombateeste  ?  "  Whitwell  asked. 

"  Nosseh  !  "  said  the  Canuck,  with  a  misliking  eye 
on  Jeff. 


406  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  I  mean,  along  with  me,"  Whitwcll  explained.  "  If 
I  conclude  to  stay,  will  you  ?  Jeff's  goin'  abroad." 

"  I  guess  I  stay,"  said  Jombateeste. 

"  Don't  strain  yourself,  Jombateeste,"  said  Jeff, 
with  malevolent  derision. 

"  Not  for  you,  Jeff  Dorrgin,"  returned  the  Canuck. 
"  I  strain  myself  till  I  bust,  if  I  want," 

Jeff  sneered  to  Whitwell:  "Well,  then,  the  most 
important  point  is  settled.  Let  me  know  about  the 
minor  details  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"  All  right." 

Whitwell  talked  the  matter  over  with  his  children 
at  supper  that  evening.  Jeff  had  made  him  a  good 
offer,  and  he  had  the  winter  before  him  to  provide  for. 

"/don't  know  what  deviltry  he's  up  to,"  he  said 
in  conclusion. 

Frank  looked  to  his  sister  for  their  common  decis 
ion.  "  I  am  going  to  .try  for  a  school,"  she  said, 
quietly.  "  It's  pretty  late,  but  I  guess  I  can  get 
something.  You  and  Frank  had  better  stay." 

"  And  you  don't  feel  as  if  it  was  kind  of  meechin', 
our  takin'  up  with  his  offer,  after  what's —  ? "  Whit 
well  delicately  forbore  to  fill  out  his  sentence. 

"  You  are  doing  the  favor,  father,"  said  the  girl. 
"  He  knows  that,  and  I  guess  he  wouldn't  know  where 
to  look  if  you  refused.  And,  after  all,  what's  hap 
pened  now  is  as  much  my  doing  as  his." 

"  I  guess  that's  something  so,"  said  Whitwell,  with 
a  long  sigh  of  relief.  "  Well,  I'm  glad  you  can  look 
at  it  in  that  light,  Cynthy.  It's  the  way  the  feller's 
built,  I  presume,  as  much  as  anything." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  407 

His  daughter  waived  the  point.  "  I  shouldn't  feel 
just  right  if  none  of  us  stayed  in  the  old  place.  I 
should  feel  as  if  we  had  turned  our  backs  on  Mrs. 
Durgin." 

Her  eyes  shone,  and  her  father  said  :  "  Well,  I  guess 
that's  so,  come  to  think  of  it.  She's  been  like  a 
mother  to  you,  this  past  year,  ha'n't  she  ?  And  it 
must  have  come  pootty  hard  for  her,  sidin'  agin  Jeff. 
But  she  done  it." 

The  girl  turned  her  head  away.  They  were  sitting 
in  the  little  low  keeping-room  of  Whitwell's  house, 
and  her  father  had  his  hat  on  provisionally.  Through 
the  window  they  could  see  the  light  of  the  lantern  at 
the  office  door  of  the  hotel,  whose  mass  was  lost  in 
the  dark  above  and  behind  the  lamp.  It  was  all  very 
still  outside. 

"  I  declare,"  Whitwell  went  on,  musingly,  "  I 
wisht  Mr.  Westover  was  here." 

Cynthia  started,  but  it  was  to  ask :  "  Do  you  want 
I  should  help  you  with  your  Latin,  Frank  ? " 

Whitwell  came  back  an  hour  later  and  found  them 
still  at  their  books.  He  told  them  it  was  all  arranged ; 
Durgin  was  to  give  up  the  place  to  him  in  a  week,  and 
he  was  to  surrender  it  again  when  Jeff  came  back  in 
the  spring.  In  the  meantime  things  were  to  remain 
as  they  were  ;  after  he  was  gone,  they  could  all  go  and 
live  at  Lion's  Head  if  they  chose. 

"  We'll  see,"  said  Cynthia.  "  I've  been  thinking 
that  might  be  the  best  way,  after  all.  I  might  not  get 
a  school,  it's  so  late." 

"  That's  so,"  her  father  assented.     "  I  declare,"  he 


408  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

added,  after  a  moment's  muse,  "  I  felt  sorry  for  the 
feller  settin'  up  there  alone,  with  nobody  to  do  for 
him  but  that  old  thing  he's  got  in.  She  can't  cook 
any  more  than — "  He  desisted  for  want  of  a  com 
parison,  and  said,  "  Such  a  lookiri1  table,  too." 

"  Do  you  think  I  better  go  and  look  after  things 
a  little  ?  "  Cynthia  asked. 

"  Well,  you  no  need  to,"  said  her  father.  He  got 
down  the  planchette,  and  labored  with  it,  while  his 
children  returned  to  Frank's  lessons. 

"  Dumn  'f  /  can  make  the  thing  work,"  he  said  to 
himself  at  last.  "  /  can't  git  any  of  'em  up.  If  Jack 
son  was  here,  now  !  " 

Thrice  a  day  Cynthia  went  up  to  the  hotel,  and 
oversaw  the  preparation  of  Jeff's  meals,  and  kept  taut 
the  slack  housekeeping  of  the  old  Irish  woman  who 
had  remained  as  a  favor,  after  the  hotel  closed,  and 
professed  to  have  lost  the  chance  of  a  place  for  the 
winter  by  her  complaisance.  She  submitted  to  Cyn 
thia's  authority,  and  tried  to  make  interest  for  an  in 
definite  stay  by  sudden  zeal  and  industry,  and  the  last 
days  of  Jeff  in  the  hotel  were  more  comfortable  than 
he  openly  recognized.  He  left  the  care  of  the  build 
ing  wholly  to  Whitwell,  and  shut  himself  up  in  the 
old  farm  parlor  with  the  plans  for  a  new  hotel  which 
he  said  he  meant  to  put  up  some  day,  if  he  could  ever 
get  rid  of  the  old  one.  He  went  once  to  Lovewell, 
where  he  renewed  the  insurance,  and  somewhat  in 
creased  it;  and  he  put  a  small  mortgage  on  the 
property.  He  forestalled  the  slow  progress  of  the 
knowledge  of  other's  affairs,  which,  in  the  country,  is 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  409 

as  sure  as  it  is  slow,  and  told  Whit  well  what  he  had 
done.  He  said  he  wanted  the  mortgage  money  for 
his  journey,  and  the  insurance  money,  if  he  could  have 
the  luck  to  cash  up  by  a  good  fire,  to  rebuild  with. 

Cynthia  seldom  met  him  in  her  comings  and  goings, 
but  if  they  met  they  spoke  on  the  terms  of  their  boy 
and  girl  associations,  and  with  no  approach  through 
resentment  or  tenderness  to  the  relation  that  was  ended 
between  them.  She  saw  him  oftener  than  at  any 
other  time  setting  off  on  the  long  tramps  he  took 
through  the  woods  in  the  afternoons.  He  was  always 
alone,  and,  so  far  as  any  one  knew,  his  wanderings  had 
no  object  but  to  kill  the  time  which  hung  heavy  on  his 
hands  during  the  fortnight  after  his  mother's  death, 
before  he  sailed.  It  might  have  seemed  strange  that 
he  should  prefer  to  pass  the  days  at  Lion's  Head  after 
he  had  arranged  for  the  care  of  the  place  with  Whit- 
well,  and  Whitwell  always  believed  that  he  stayed  in 
the  hope  of  somehow  making  up  with  Cynthia. 

One  day,  towards  the  very  last,  Durgin  found  him 
self  pretty  well  fagged  in  the  old  pulp-mill  clearing 
on  the  side  of  Lion's  Head,  which  still  belonged  to 
Whitwell,  and  he  sat  down  on  a  mouldering  log  there 
to  rest.  It  had  always  been  a  favorite  picnic  ground, 
but  the  season  just  past  had  known  few  picnics,  and 
it  was  those  of  former  years  that  had  left  their  traces 
in  rusty  sardine-cans  and  broken  glass  and  crockery 
on  the  border  of  the  clearing,  which  was  now  almost 
covered  with  white  moss.  Jeff  thought  of  the  day 
when  he  lurked  in  the  hollow  below  with  Fox,  while 
Westover  remained  talking  with  Whitwell.  He 


410  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

thought  of  the  picnic  that  Mrs.  Marven  had  embittered 
for  him,  and  he  thought  of  the  last  time  that  he  had 
been  there  with  Westover,  when  they  talked  of  the 
Vostrands. 

Life  had,  so  far,  not  been  what  he  meant  it,  and 
just  now  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  not  have 
wholly  made  it  what  it  had  been.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  a  good  many  other  people  had  come  in  and  taken 
a  hand  in  making  his  own  life  what  it  had  been  ;  and 
if  he  had  meddled  with  theirs  more  than  he  was 
wanted,  it  was  about  an  even  thing.  As  far  as  he 
could  make  out,  he  was  a  sort  of  ingredient  in  the 
general  mixture.  He  had  probably  done  his  share  of 
the  flavoring,  but  he  had  had  very  little  to  do  with 
the  mixing.  There  were  different  ways  of  looking  at 
the  thing.  Westover  had  his  way,  but  it  struck  Jeff 
that  it  put  too  much  responsibility  on  the  ingredient, 
and  too  little  on  the  power  that  chose  it.  He  believed 
that  he  could  prove  a  clear  case  in  his  own  favor,  as 
far  as  the  question  of  final  justice  was  concerned,  but 
he  had  no  complaints  to  make.  Things  had  fallen 
out  very  much  to  his  mind.  He  was  the  Landlord  at 
Lion's  Head,  at  last,  with  the  full  right  to  do  what  he 
pleased  with  the  place,  and  with  half  a  year's  leisure 
before  him  to  think  it  over.  He  did  not  mean  to 
waste  the  time  while  he  was  abroad  ;  if  there  was  any 
thing  to  be  learned  anywhere  about  keeping  a  summer 
hotel,  he  was  going  to  learn  it ;  and  he  thought  the 
summer  hotel  could  be  advantageously  studied  in  its 
winter  phases  in  the  mild  climates  of  Southern  Europe. 
He  meant  to  strike  for  the  class  of  Americans  who 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  411 

resorted  to  those  climates;  to  divine  their  characters 
and  to  please  their  tastes. 

He  unconsciously  included  Cynthia  in  his  scheme 
of  inquiry ;  he  had  been  used  so  long  to  trust  to  her 
instincts  and  opinions,  and  to  rely  upon  her  help,  and 
he  realized  that  she  was  no  longer  in  his  life  with 
something  like  the  shock  a  man  experiences  when  the 
loss  of  a  limb,  which  continues  a  part  of  his  inveterate 
consciousness,  is  brought  to  his  sense  by  some  me 
chanical  attempt  to  use  it.  But  even  in  this  pang  he 
did  not  regret  that  all  was  over  between  them.  He 
knew  now  that  he  had  never  cared  for  her  as  he  had 
once  thought,  and  on  her  account,  if  not  his  own,  he 
was  glad  their  engagement  was  broken.  A  soft  mel 
ancholy  for  his  own  disappointment  imparted  itself  to 
his  thoughts  of  Cynthia.  He  felt  truly  sorry  for  her, 
and  he  truly  admired  and  respected  her.  He  was  in 
a  very  lenient  mood  towards  every  one,  and  he  went 
so  far  in  thought  towards  forgiving  his  enemies  that 
he  was  willing  at  least  to  pardon  all  those  whom  he 
had  injured.  A  little  rustling  in  the  underbrush 
across  the  clearing  caught  his  quick  ear,  and  he  looked 
up  to  see  Jombateeste  parting  the  boughs  of  the  young 
pines  on  its  edge,  and  advancing  into  the  open  with  a 
gun  on  his  shoulder.  He  called  to  him  cheerily : 
"Hello,  John!  Any  luck?" 

Jombateeste  shook  his  head.  "  Nawthing."  He 
hesitated. 

"  What  are  you  after  ? " 

"Partridge,"  Jombateeste  ventured  back. 

Jeff  could  not  resist  the  desire  to  scoff  which  always 


412  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

came  upon  him  at  sight  of  the  Canuck.  "  Oh,  pshaw  ! 
Why  don't  you  go  for  woodchucks  ?  They  fly  low, 
and  you  can  hit  them  on  the  wing,  if  you  can't  sneak 
on  'em  sitting." 

Jombateeste  received  his  raillery  in  dignified  silence, 
and  turned  back  into  the  woods  again.  He  left  Dur- 
gin  in  heightened  good-humor  with  himself  and  with 
the  world,  which  had  finally  so  well  adapted  itself  to 
his  desires  and  designs. 

Jeff  watched  his  resentful  going  with  a  grin,  and 
then  threw  himself  back  on  the  thick  bed  of  dry  moss 
where  he  had  been  sitting,  and  watched  the  clouds 
drifting  across  the  space  of  blue  which  the  clearing 
opened  overhead.  His  own  action  reminded  him  of 
Jackson,  lying  in  the  orchard,  and  looking  up  at  the 
sky.  He  felt  strangely  at  one  with  him,  and  he  ex 
perienced  a  tenderness  for  his  memory  which  he  had 
not  known  before.  Jackson  had  been  a  good  man  ; 
he  realized  that  with  a  curious  sense  of  novelty  in  the 
reflection  ;  he  wondered  what  the  incentives  and  the 
objects  of  such  men  as  Jackson  and  Westover  were, 
anyway.  Something  like  grief  for  his  brother  came 
upon  him ;  not  such  grief  as  he  had  felt  passionately 
enough,  though  tacitly,  for  his  mother ;  but  a  regret 
for  not  having  shown  Jackson  during  his  life  that  he 
could  appreciate  his  unselfishness,  though  he  could 
not  see  the  reason  or  the  meaning  of  it.  He  said  to 
himself,  in  their  safe  remoteness  from  each  other,  that 
he  wished  he  could  do  something  for  Jackson.  He 
wondered  if  in  the  course  of  time  he  should  get  to  be 
something  like  him.  He  imagined  trying. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  413 

He  heard  sounds  again  in  the  edge  of  the  clearing, 
but  he  decided  that  it  was  that  fool  Jombateeste  com 
ing  back;  and  when  steps  approached  softly  and  hesi 
tantly  across  the  moss,  he  did  not  trouble  himself  to 
take  his  eyes  from  the  clouds.  He  was  only  vexed  to 
have  his  reverie  broken  in  upon. 

A  voice  that  was  not  Jombateeste's  spoke :  "  I  say  ! 
Can  you  tell  me  the  way  to  the  Brooker  Institute,  or 
to  the  road  down  the  mountain  ? " 

Jeff  sat  suddenly  bolt-upright ;  in  another  moment 
he  jumped  to  his  feet.  The  Brooker  Institute  was  a 
branch  of  the  Keeley  Cure  recently  established  near 
the  Huddle,  and  this  must  be  a  patient  who  had  wan 
dered  from  it,  on  one  of  the  excursions  the  inmates 
made  with  their  guardians,  and  lost  his  way.  This 
was  the  fact  that  Jeff  realized  at  the  first  glance  he 
gave  the  man.  The  next  he  recognized  that  the  man 
was  Alan  Lynde. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,"  he  said,  quite  simply.  He  felt  so 
cruelly  the  hardship  of  his  one  unforgiven  enemy's 
coming  upon  him  just  when  he  had  resolved  to  be 
good,  that  the  tears  came  into  his  eyes.  Then  his 
rage  seemed  to  swell  up  in  him  like  the  rise  of  a  vol 
canic  flood.  "  I'm  going  to  kill  you  !  "  he  roared,  and 
he  launched  himself  upon  Lynde,  who  stood  dazed. 

But  the  murder  which  Jeff  meant  was  not  to  be  so 
easily  done.  Lynde  had  not  grown  up  in  dissolute 
idleness  without  acquiring  some  of  the  arts  of  self- 
defence  which  are  called  manly.  He  met  Jeff's  onset 
with  remembered  skill,  and  with  the  strength  which 
he  had  gained  in  three  months  of  the  wholesome  regi- 


414  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

men  of  the  Brooker  Institute.  He  had  been  sent 
there,  not  by  Dr.  Lacy's  judgment,  but  by  his  despair, 
and  so  far  the  Cure  had  cured.  He  felt  strong  and 
fresh,  and  the  hate  which  filled  Jeff  at  sight  of  him 
steeled  his  shaken  nerves,  and  re-enforced  his  feebler 
muscles  too. 

He  made  a  desperate  fight  where  he  could  not  hope 
for  mercy,  and  kept  himself  free  of  his  powerful  foe, 
whom  he  fought  round  and  foiled,  if  he  could  not  hurt 
him.  Jeff  never  knew  of  the  blows  Lynde  got  in  upon 
him ;  he  had  his  own  science  too,  but  he  would  not 
employ  it.  He  wanted  to  crash  through  Lynde's  de 
fence,  and  lay  hold  of  him,  and  crush  the  life  out  of 
him. 

The  contest  could  not  have  lasted  long  at  the  best ; 
but  before  Lynde  was  worn  out  he  caught  his  heel  in 
an  old  laurel  root,  and  while  he  whirled  to  recover  his 
footing  Jeff  closed  in  upon  him,  caught  him  by  the 
middle,  flung  him  down  upon  the  moss,  and  was 
kneeling  on  his  breast  with  both  hands  at  his  throat. 

He  glared  down  into  his  enemy's  face,  and  sud 
denly  it  looked  pitifully  little  and  weak,  like  a  girl's 
face,  a  child's. 

Sometimes,  afterwards,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he 
forbore  because  at  that  instant  he  saw  Jombateeste 
appear  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing  and  come  running 
upon  them.  At  other  times  he  had  the  fancy  that  his 
action  was  purely  voluntary,  and  that,  against  the  logic 
of  his  hate  and  the  habit  of  his  life,  he  had  mercy 
upon  his  enemy.  He  did  not  pride  himself  upon  it; 
he  rather  humbled  himself  before  the  fact,  which  was 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  415 

accomplished  through  his  will,  and  not  by  it,  and  re 
mained  a  mystery  he  did  not  try  to  solve. 

He  took  his  hands  from  Lynde's  throat  and  his 
knees  off  his  breast.  "  Get  up,"  he  said ;  and  when 
Lynde  stood  trembling  on  his  feet,  he  said  to  Jomba- 
teeste :  "  Show  this  man  the  way  to  the  Brooker  Insti 
tute.  I'll  take  your  gun  home  for  you,"  and  it  was 
easy  for  him  to  detach  the  piece  from  the  bewildered 
Canuck's  grasp.  "  Go  !  And  if  you  stop,  or  even  let 
him  look  back,  I'll  shoot  him.  Quick  !  " 


LI. 

THE  day  after  Thanksgiving,  when  Westover  was 
trying  to  feel  well  after  the  turkey  and  cranberry  and 
cider  which  a  lady  had  given  him  at  a  consciously 
old-fashioned  Thanksgiving  dinner,  but  not  making  it 
out  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  work,  he  was  astonished 
to  receive  a  visit  from  Whitwcll. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  the  philosopher,  without  giving 
himself  pause  for  the  exchange  of  reflections  upon  his 
presence  in  Boston,  which  might  have  been  agreeable 
to  him  on  a  less  momentous  occasion,  "  it's  all  up  with 
Lion's  Head." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  demanded  Westover,  with 
his  mind  upon  the  mountain,  which  he  electrically 
figured  in  an  incredible  destruction. 

"  She's  burnt.  Burnt  down  day  before  yist'd'y 
aft'noon.  A'n't  hardly  a  stick  of  her  left.  Ketched 
Lord  knows  how,  from  the  kitchen  chimney,  and  a 
high  northwest  wind  blowin',  that  ca'd  the  sparks  to 
the  barn,  and  set  fire  to  that  too.  Hosses  gone; 
couldn't  get  round  to  'em ;  only  three  of  us  there,  and 
mixed  up  so  about  the  house  till  it  was  so  late  the 
critters  wouldn't  come  out.  Folks  from  over  Huddle 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  417 

way  see  the  blaze,  and  helped  all  they  could ;  but  it 
wa'n't  no  use.  I  guess  all  we  saved,  about,  was  the 
flag-pole." 

"But  you're  all  right  yourselves?     Cynthia — r 

u  Well,  there  was  our  misfortune,"  said  Whitwell, 
while  Westover's  heart  stopped  in  a  mere  wantonness 
of  apprehension.  "  If  she'd  be'n  there,  it  might  ha' 
be'n  difTent.  We  might  ha'  had  more  sense ;  or  she 
would,  anyway.  But  she  was  over  to  Lovewell  stock- 
in'  up  for  Thanksgivin',  and  I  had  to  make  out  the 
best  I  could,  with  Frank  and  Jombateeste.  Why,  that 
Canuck  didn't  seem  to  have  no  more  head  on  him  than 
a  hen.  I  was  disgusted ;  but  Cynthy  wouldn't  let  me 
say  anything  to  him,  and  I  d'  know  as  't  'ould  done 
any  good,  myself.  We've  talked  it  all  over  in  every 
light,  ever  since ;  guess  we've  set  up  most  the  time 
talkin',  and  nothin'  would  do  her  but  I  should  come 
down  and  see  you  before  I  took  a  single  step  about 
it." 

"  How — step  about  what  ? "  asked  Westover,  with 
a  remote  sense  of  hardship  at  being  brought  in,  tem 
pered  by  the  fact  that  it  was  Cynthia  who  had  brought 
him  in. 

"  Wliy,  that  devil,"  said  Whitwell,  and  Westover 
knew  that  he  meant  Jeff,  "  went  and  piled  on  all  the 
insurance  he  could  pile  on,  before  he  left ;  and  I  don't 
know  what  to  do  about  it." 

"  I  should  think  the  best  thing  was  to  collect  the 
insurance,"  Westover  suggested,  distractedly. 

"  It  a'n't  so  easy  as  what  that  comes  to,"  said 
Whitwell.  "  I  couldn't  collect  the  insurance ;  and 
AA 


418  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD, 

here's  the  point,  anyway.  When  a  hotel's  made  a  bad 
season,  and  she's  fully  insured,  she's  pootty  certain  to 
burn  up  some  time  in  the  winter.  Everybody  knows 
that  comical  devil  wanted  Lion's  Head  to  burn  up  so' t 
he  could  build  new,  and  I  presume  there  a'n't  a  man, 
woman,  or  child  anywhere  round  but  what  believes  I 
set  her  on  fire.  Hired  to  do  it.  Now,  see  ?  Jeff  off 
in  Europe  ;  daytime  ;  no  lives  lost ;  prop'ty  total  loss. 
'S  a  clear  case.  Heigh?  I  tell  you,  I'm  afraid  I've 
got  trouble  ahead." 

Westover  tried  to  protest,  to  say  something  in  de 
rision  or  defiance ;  but  he  was  shaken  himself,  and  he 
ended  by  getting  his  hat  and  coat ;  Whitwell  had  kept 
his  own  on,  in  the  excitement.  "  We'll  go  out  and 
see  a  lawyer.  A  friend  of  mine ;  it  won't  cost  you 
anything."  He  added  this  assurance  at  a  certain  look 
of  reluctance  that  came  into  Whitwell's  face,  and  that 
left  it  as  soon  as  he  had  spoken.  Whitwell  glanced 
round  the  studio  even  cheerily.  "  Who'd  ha'  thought," 
he  said,  fastening  upon  the  study  which  Westover  had 
made  of  Lion's  Head  the  winter  before,  "  that  the  old 
place  would  'a'  gone  so  soon  ? "  He  did  not  mean  the 
mountain  which  he  was  looking  at,  but  the  hotel  that 
was  present  to  his  mind's  eye ;  and  Westover  per 
ceived  as  he  had  not  before  that  to  Whitwell  the 
hotel  and  not  the  mountain  was  Lion's  Head. 

He  remembered  to  ask  now  where  Whitwell  had 
left  his  family,  and  Whitwell  said  that  Frank  and 
Cynthia  were  at  home  in  his  own  house  with  Jomba- 
teeste  ;  but  he  presumed  he  could  not  get  back  to 
them  now  before  the  next  day.  He  refused  to  be 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  419 

interested  in  any  of  the  aspects  of  Boston  which 
Westover  casually  pointed  out,  but  when  they  had 
seen  the  lawyer  he  came  forth  a  new  man,  vividly  in 
terested  in  everything.  The  lawyer  had  been  able  to 
tell  them  that  though  the  insurance  companies  would 
look  sharply  into  the  cause  of  the  fire,  there  was  no 
probability,  hardly  a  possibility,  that  they  would  in 
culpate  him,  and  he  need  give  himself  no  anxiety 
about  the  affair. 

"There's  one  thing,  though,"  Whitwell  said  to 
Westover  when  they  got  out  upon  the  street.  "  Hadn't 
I  ought  to  let  Jeff  know  ? " 

"  Yes,  at  once.  You'd  better  cable  h;m.  Have 
you  got  his  address  ?  " 

Whitwell  had  it,  and  he  tasted  all  the  dramatic 
quality  of  sending  word  to  Jeff,  which  he  would  receive 
in  Florence  an  hour  after  it  left  Boston.  "  I  did  hope 
I  could  ha'  cabled  once  to  Jackson,  while  he  was  gone," 
he  said,  regretfully,  "  but  unless  we  can  fix  up  a  wire 
with  the  other  world,  I  guess  I  sha'n't  ever  do  it  now. 
I  suppose  Jackson's  still  hangin'  round  Mars,  some- 
'res." 

He  had  a  sectarian  pride  in  the  beauty  of  the  Spir 
itual  Temple  which  Westover  walked  him  by  on  his 
way  to  see  Trinity  Church  and  the  Fine  Arts  Museum, 
and  he  sorrowed  that  he  could  not  attend  a  service 
there.  But  he  was  consoled  by  the  lunch  which  he 
had  with  Westover  at  a  restaurant  where  it  was  served 
in  courses.  "  I  presume  this  is  what  Jeff's  goin'  to 
give  'em  at  Lion's  Head  when  he  gits  it  goin'  again." 

"  How  is  it  he's  in  Florence  ? "  it  occurred  to  West- 


420  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

over  to  ask.  "  I  thought  he  was  going  to  Nice  for 
the  winter." 

"  I  don't  know.  That's  the  address  he  give  in  his 
last  letter,"  said  Whitwell.  "  I'll  be  glad  when  I've 
done  with  him  for  good  and  all.  He's  all  kinds  of  a 
devil." 

It  was  in  Westover's  mind  to  say  that  he  wished  the 
Whitwells  had  never  had  anything  to  do  with  Durgin 
after  his  mother's  death.  He  had  felt  it  a  want  of 
delicacy  in  them  that  they  had  been  willing  to  stay  on 
in  his  employ,  and  his  ideal  of  Cynthia  had  suffered  a 
kind  of  wound  from  what  must  have  been  her  decision 
in  the  matter.  He  would  have  expected  something 
altogether  different  from  her  pride,  her  self-respect. 
But  he  now  merely  said :  "  Yes,  I  shall  be  glad,  too. 
I'm  afraid  he's  a  bad  fellow." 

His  words  seemed  to  appeal  to  WhitwelPs  impar 
tiality.  "  Well,  I  d'  know  as  I  should  say  bad,  exact 
ly.  He's  a  mixture." 

"  He's  a  bad  mixture,"  said  Westover. 

"  Well,  I  guess  you're  partly  right  there,"  Whitwell 
admitted  with  a  laugh.  After  a  dreamy  moment  he 
asked,  "  Ever  hear  anything  more  about  that  girl  here 
in  Boston?" 

Westover  knew  that  he  meant  Bessie  Lynde. 
"  She's  abroad  somewhere,  with  her  aunt." 

Whitwell  had  not  taken  any  wine ;  apparently  he 
was  afraid  of  forming  instantly  the  habit  of  drink  if 
he  touched  it;  but  he  tolerated  Westover's  pint  of 
Zinfandel,  and  he  seemed  to  warm  sympathetically  to 
a  greater  confidence  as  the  painter  made  away  with  it. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  421 

"There's  one  thing  I  never  told  Cynthy  yet;  well, 
Jombateeste  didn't  tell  me  himself  till  after  Jeff  was 
gone  ;  and  then,  thinks  I,  what's  the  use  ?  But  I  guess 
you  had  better  know." 

He  leaned  forward  across  the  table,  and  gave  Jom- 
bateeste's  story  of  the  encounter  between  Jeff  and  Alan 
Lynde  in  the  clearing.  "  Now  what  do  you  suppose 
was  the  reason  Jeff  let  up  on  the  feller  ?  Of  course, 
he  meant  to  choke  the  life  out  of  him,  and  his  just 
ketchin'  sight  of  Jombateeste,  do  you  believe  that  was 
enough  to  stop  him,  when  he'd  started  in  for  a  thing 
like  that  ?  Or  what  was  it  done  it  ?  " 

Westover  listened  with  less  thought  of  the  fact  itself 
than  of  another  fact  that  it  threw  light  upon.  It  was 
clear  to  him  now  that  the  Class-Day  scrapping  which 
had  left  its  marks  upon  Jeff's  face  was  with  Lynde, 
and  that  when  Jeff  got  him  in  his  power  he  was  in 
such  a  fury  for  revenge,  that  no  mere  motive  of  pru 
dence  could  have  arrested  him.  In  both  events,  it  must 
have  been  Bessie  Lynde  that  was  the  moving  cause ; 
but  what  was  it  that  stayed  Jeff  in  his  vengeance  ? 

"  Let  him  up,  and  let  him  walk  away,  you  say  ? "  he 
demanded  of  Whitwell. 

Whitwell  nodded.  "  That's  what  Jombateeste  said. 
Said  Jeff  said  if  he  let  the  feller  look  back  he'd  shoot 
him.  But  he  didn't  haf  to." 

"  I  can't  make  it  out,"  Westover  sighed. 

"  It's  been  too  much  for  me,"  Whitwell  said.  "  I 
told  Jombateeste  he'd  better  keep  it  to  himself,  and  I 
guess  he  done  so.  S'pose  Jeff  still  had  a  sneakin' 
fondness  for  the  girl  ?  " 


422  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  I  don't  know  ;  perhaps,"  Westover  asserted. 

Wliitwell  threw  his  head  back  in  a  sudden  laugh 
that  showed  all  the  work  of  his  dentist.  "Well, 
wouldn't  it  be  a  joke  if  he  was  there  in  Florence  after 
her?  Be  just  like  Jeff." 

"It  would  be  like  Jeff;  I  don't  know  whether  it 
would  be  a  joke  or  not.  I  hope  he  won't  find  it  a 
joke,  if  it's  so,"  said  Westover,  gloomily.  A  fantastic 
apprehension  seized  him,  which  made  him  wish  for  the 
moment  that  it  might  be  so,  and  which  then  passed, 
leaving  him  simply  sorry  for  any  chance  that  might 
bring  Bessie  Lynde  into  the  fellow's  way  again. 

For  the  evening  Whitwell's  preference  would  have 
been  a  lecture  of  some  sort,  but  there  was  none  adver 
tised,  and  he  consented  to  go  with  Westover  to  the 
theatre.  He  came  back  to  the  painter  at  dinner-time, 
after  a  wary  exploration  of  the  city,  which  had  resulted 
not  only  in  a  personal  acquaintance  with  its  monu 
ments,  but  an  immunity  from  its  dangers  and  tempta 
tions  which  he  prided  himself  hardly  less  upon.  He 
had  seen  Faneuil  Hall,  the  old  State  House,  Bunker 
Hill,  the  Public  Library,  and  the  Old  South  Church, 
and  he  had  not  been  sand-bagged,  or  buncoed,  or  led 
astray  from  the  paths  of  propriety.  He  was  disposed, 
in  the  comfortable  sense  of  escape,  to  moralize  upon 
the  civilization  of  great  cities,  which  he  now  witnessed 
at  first  hand  for  the  first  time ;  and  throughout  the 
evening,  between  the  acts  of  the  Old  Homestead, 
which  he  found  a  play  of  some  merit,  but  of  not  so 
much  novelty  in  its  characters  as  he  had  somehow  led 
himself  to  expect,  he  recurred  to  the  difficulties  and 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  423 

dangers  that  must  beset  a  young  man  in  coming  to  a 
place  like  Boston.  Westover  found  him  less  amusing 
than  he  had  on  his  own  ground  at  Lion's  Head,  and 
tasted  a  quality  of  commonplace  in  his  deliverances 
which  made  him  question  whether  he  had  not,  per 
haps,  always  owed  more  to  this  environment  than  he 
had  suspected.  But  they  parted  upon  terms  of  mutual 
respect,  and  in  the  common  hope  of  meeting  again. 
Whitwell  promised  to  let  Westover  know  what  he 
heard  of  Jeff,  but  when  the  painter  had  walked  the 
philosopher  home  to  his  hotel,  he  found  a  message 
awaiting  him  at  his  studio,  from  Jeff  direct. 

"  WhitweWs  despatch  received.      Wait  letter. 

"  DURGIN." 

Westover  raged  at  the  intelligent  thrift  of  this  tel 
egram,  and  at  the  implication  that  he  not  only  knew 
all  about  the  business  of  Whitwell's  despatch,  but  that 
he  was  in  communication  with  him,  and  would  be 
sufficiently  interested  to  convey  Jeff's  message  to  him. 
Of  course,  Durgin  had  at  once  divined  that  Whitwell 
must  have  come  to  him  for  advice,  and  that  he  would 
hear  from  him,  whether  he  was  still  in  Boston  or  not. 
By  cabling  to  Westover,  Jeff  saved  the  cost  of  an  elab 
orate  address  to  Whitwell  at  Lion's  Head,  and  had 
brought  the  painter  in  for  further  consultation  and 
assistance  in  his  affairs.  What  vexed  him  still  more 
was  his  own  consciousness  that  he  could  not  defeat 
this  impudent  expectation.  He  had  indeed  some  dif 
ficulty  with  himself  to  keep  from  going  to  Whitwell's 
hotel  with  the  despatch  at  once,  and  he  slept  badly,  in 


424  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

his  fear  that  he  might  not  get  it  to  him  in  the  morn 
ing  before  he  left  town. 

The  sum  of  Jeff's  letter  when  it  came,  and  it  came 
to  Westover  and  not  to  Whitwell,  was  to  request  the 
painter  to  see  a  lawyer  in  his  behalf,  and  put  his  in 
surance  policies  in  his  hands,  with  full  authority  to 
guard  his  interests  in  the  matter.  He  told  Westover 
where  his  policies  would  be  found,  and  enclosed  the 
key  of  his  box  in  the  Safety  Vaults,  with  a  due  de 
mand  for  Westover's  admission  to  it.  .  He  registered 
his  letter,  and  he  jocosely  promised  Westover  to  do 
as  much  for  him  some  day,  in  pleading  that  there  was 
really  no  one  else  he  could  turn  to.  He  put  the  whole 
business  upon  him,  and  Westover  discharged  himself 
of  it  as  briefly  as  he  could  by  delivering  the  papers 
to  the  lawyer  he  had  already  consulted  for  WhiJ;well. 

"  Is  this  another  charity  patient  ?  "  asked  his  friend, 
with  a  grin. 

"No," "replied  Westover.  "You  can  charge  this 
fellow  along  the  whole  line." 

Before  he  parted  with  the  lawyer  he  had  his  mis 
givings,  and  he  said,  "  I  shouldn't  want  the  blackguard 
to  think  I  had  got  a  friend  a  fat  job  out  of  him." 

The  lawyer  laughed  intelligently.  "I  shall  only 
make  the  usual  charge.  Then  he  is  a  blackguard." 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  more  blistering  word." 

"  One  that  would  imply  that  he  was  capable  of  set 
ting  fire  to  his  property  ?  " 

"  I  don't  say  that.  But  I'm  glad  he  was  away  when 
it  took  fire,"  said  Westover. 

"  You  give  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt." 

"  Yes,  of  every  kind  of  doubt." 


LIT. 

WESTOVER  once  more  promised  himself  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  Jeff  Durgin  or  his  affairs.  But  he 
did  not  promise  this  so  confidently  as  upon  former 
occasions,  and  he  instinctively  waited  for  a  new  com 
plication.  He  could  not  understand  why  Jeff  should 
not  have  come  home  to  look  after  his  insurance,  unless 
it  was  because  he  had  become  interested  in  some 
woman  even  beyond  his  concern  for  his  own  advan 
tage.  He  believed  him  capable  of  throwing  away 
advantages  for  disadvantages  in  a  thing  of  that  kind, 
but  he  thought  it  more  probable  that  he  had  fallen  in 
love  with  one  whom  he  would  lose  nothing  by  winning. 
It  did  not  seem  at  all  impossible  that  he  should  have 
again  met  Bessie  Lynde,  and  that  they  should  have 
made  up  their  quarrel,  or  whatever  it  was.  Jeff  would 
consider  that  he  had  done  his  whole  duty  by  Cynthia, 
and  that  he  was  free  to  renew  his  suit  with  Bessie ; 
and  there  was  nothing  in  Bessie's  character,  as  West- 
over  understood  it,  to  prevent  her  taking  him  back 
upon  a  very  small  show  of  repentance  if  the  needed 
emotions  were  in  prospect.  He  had  decided  pretty 
finally  that  it  would  be  Bessie  rather  than  another 


426  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

when  he  received  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Vostrand.  It  was 
dated  at  Florence,  and  after  some  pretty  palaver  about 
their  old  friendship,  which  she  only  hoped  he  remem 
bered  half  as  fondly  as  she  did,  the  letter  ran : 

"  I  am  turning  to  you  now  in  a  very  strange  diffi 
culty,  but  I  do  not  know  that  I  should  turn  to  you 
even  now,  and  knowing  all  I  do  of  your  goodness,  if  I 
were  not  asked  to  do  so  by  another. 

"  I  believe  we  have  not  heard  from  each  other  since 
the  first  days  of  my  poor  Genevieve's  marriage,  when 
everything  looked  so  bright  and  fair,  and  we  little 
realized  the  clouds  that  were  to  overcast  her  happiness. 
It  is  a  long  story,  and  I  will  not  go  into  it  fully.  The 
truth  is  that  poor  Gigi  did  not  treat  her  very  kindly, 
and  that  she  has  not  lived  with  him  since  the  birth  of 
their  little  girl,  now  nearly  two  years  old,  and  the 
sweetest  little  creature  in  the  world;  I  wish  you  could 
see  her ;  I  am  sure  it  would  inspire  your  pencil  with 
the  idea  of  an  angel-child.  At  first  I  hoped  that  the 
separation  would  be  only  temporary,  and  that  when 
Genevieve  had  regained  her  strength  she  would  be 
willing  to  go  back  to  her  husband ;  but  nothing  would 
induce  her  to  do  so.  In  fact,  poor  Gigi  had  spent  all 
her  money,  and  they  would  have  had  nothing  to  live 
upon  but  his  pay,  and  you  know  that  the  pay  of  the 
Italian  officers  is  very  small. 

"  Gigi  made  several  attempts  to  see  her,  and  he 
threatened  to  take  the  child  from  her,  but  he  was 
always  willing  to  compromise  for  money.  I  am 
afraid  that  he  never  really  loved  her,  and  that  we  were 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  427 

both  deceived  by  his  fervent  protestations.  We  man 
aged  to  get  away  from  Florence  without  his  knowing 
it,  and  we  have  spent  the  last  two  years  in  Lausanne, 
very  happily,  though  very  quietly.  Our  dear  Checco 
is  in  the  University  there,  his  father  having  given  up 
the  plan  of  sending  him  to  Harvard,  and  we  had  him 
with  us,  while  we  were  taking  measures  to  secure  the 
divorce.  Even  in  the  simple  way  we  lived  Genevieve 
attracted  a  great  deal  of  attention,  as  she  always  has 
done,  and  she  would  have  had  several  very  eligible  offers, 
if  she  had  been  divorced,  or  if  her  affections  had  not 
already  been  engaged,  as  1  did  not  know  at  the  time. 
"  We  were  in  this  state  of  uncertainty  up  to  the 
middle  of  last  summer,  when  the  news  of  poor  Gigi's 
sudden  death  came.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  his  habits 
in  some  respects  were  not  good,  and  that  probably  has 
tened  it  some ;  it  had  obliged  him  to  leave  the  army. 
Genevieve  did  not  feel  that  she  could  consistently  put 
on  black  for  him,  and  I  did  not  urge  her,  under  the  pe 
culiar  circumstances;  there  is  so  much  mere  formality  in 
those  kind  of  things  at  the  best ;  but  we  immediately 
returned  to  Florence  to  try  and  see  if  we  could  not 
get  back  some  of  her  effects  which  his  family  had 
seized.  I  am  opposed  to  lawsuits  if  they  can  possibly 
be  avoided,  and  we  arranged  with  poor  Gigi's  family 
by  agreeing  to  let  them  have  Genevieve's  furniture  if 
they  would  promise  never  to  molest  her  with  the  child, 
and  I  must  say  they  have  behaved  very  well.  We  are 
on  the  best  of  terms  with  them,  and  they  have  let  us 
have  some  of  the  things  back  which  were  endeared  to 
her  by  old  associations,  at  a  very  reasonble  rate. 


428  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  This  brings  me  to  the  romantic  part  of  my  letter, 
and  I  will  say  at  once  that  we  found  your  friend  Mr. 
Durgin  in  Florence,  in  the  very  hotel  we  went  to.  We 
all  met  in  the  dining-room,  at  the  table  d'hote  one 
evening,  and  Genevieve  and  he  took  to  each  other  at 
once.  He  spent  the  evening  with  us  in  our  private 
drawing-room,  and  she  said  to  me,  after  he  went,  that 
for  the  first  time  in  years  she  felt  rested.  It  seems 
that  she  had  always  secretly  fancied  him,  and  that  she 
gave  up  to  me  in  the  matter  of  marrying  poor  Gigi, 
because  she  knew  I  had  my  heart  set  upon  it,  and  she 
was  not  very  certain  of  her  own  feelings  when  Mr. 
D.  offered  himself  in  Boston ;  but  the  conviction  that 
she  had  made  a  mistake  grew  upon  her  more  and  more 
after  she  had  married  Gigi. 

"  Well,  now,  Mr.  Westover,  I  suppose  you  have 
guessed  by  this  time  that  Mr.  Durgin  has  renewed  his 
offer,  and  Genevieve  has  conditionally  accepted  him ; 
we  do  not  feel  that  she  is  like  an  ordinary  widoiv,  and 
that  she  has  to  fill  up  a  certain  season  of  mourning ; 
she  and  Gigi  have  been  dead  to  each  other  for  years ; 
and  Mr.  Durgin  is  as  fond  of  our  dear  little  Bice  as 
her  own  father  could  be,  and  they  are  together  all 
the  time.  Her  name  is  Beatrice  de'  Popolani  Grassi. 
Isn't  it  lovely  ?  She  has  poor  Gigi's  black  eyes,  with 
the  most  beautiful  golden  hair,  which  she  gets  from 
our  side.  You  remember  Genevieve's  hair  back  in  the 
dear  old  days,  before  any  trouble  had  come,  and  we 
were  all  so  happy  together.  And  this  brings  me  to 
what  I  wanted  to  say.  You  are  the  oldest  friend  we 
have,  and  by  a  singular  coincidence  you  are  the  oldest 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  429 

friend  of  Mr.  Durgin,  too.  I  cannot  bear  to  risk  my 
child's  happiness  a  second  time,  and  though  Mr.  Vos- 
trand  fully  approves  of  the  match,  and  has  cabled  his 
consent  from  Seattle,  Washington,  still,  you  know,  a 
mother's  heart  cannot  be  at  rest  without  some  positive 
assurance.  I  told  Mr.  Durgin  quite  frankly  how  I 
felt,  and  he  agreed  with  me  that  after  our  experience 
with  poor  Gigi  we  could  not  be  too  careful,  and  he 
authorized  me  to  write  to  you,  and  find  out  all  you 
knew  about  him.  He  said  you  had  known  him  ever 
since  he  was  a  boy,  and  that  if  there  was  anything 
bad  in  his  record  you  could  tell  it,  and  he  did  not 
want  you  to  spare  the  truth.  He  knows  you  will  be 
just,  and  he  wants  you  to  write  out  the  facts  as  they 
struck  you  at  the  time. 

"  I  shall  be  on  pins  and  needles,  as  the  saying  is,  till 
we  hear  from  you,  and  you  know  how  Genevieve  and 
Mr.  D.  must  be  feeling.  She  is  fully  resolved  not  to 
have  him  without  your  endorsement,  and  he  is  quite 
willing  to  abide  by  what  you  say.  I  could  almost 
wish  you  to  cable  me  just  Good  or  Bad,  but  I  know 
that  this  will  not  be  wise,  and  I  am  going  to  wait  for 
your  letter,  and  get  your  opinion  in  full. 

"  We  all  join  in  the  kindest  regards.  Mr.  D.  is  talk 
ing  with  Genevieve  while  I  write,  and  has  our  darling 
Bice  on  his  knees.  You  cannot  imagine  what  a  pict 
ure  it  makes,  her  childish  delicacy  contrasted  with  his 
stalwart  strength.  She  says  to  send  you  a  baciettino, 
and  I  wish  you  were  here  to  receive  it  from  her  angel 
lips.  Yours  faithfully, 

"  MEDOKA  VOSTRAND. 


430  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  P.  S. — Mr.  D.  says  that  he  fell  in  love  with  Gen- 
evieve  across  the  barrier  between  the  first  and  second 
cabin  when  he  came  over  with  us  on  the  Acquitaine 
four  years  ago,  and  that  he  has  never  ceased  to  love 
her,  though  at  one  time  he  persuaded  himself  that  he 
cared  for  another  because  he  felt  that  she  was  lost  to 
him  forever,  and  it  was  no  use.  He  really  did  care 
for  the  lady  he  was  engaged  to,  and  had  a  true  affec 
tion  for  her,  which  he  mistook  for  a  warmer  feeling. 
He  says  that  she  was  worthy  of  any  man's  love,  and 
of  the  highest  respect.  I  tell  Genevieve  that  she  ought 
to  honor  him  for  it,  and  that  she  must  never  be  jealous 
of  a  memory.  We  are  very  happy  in  Mr.  Vostrand's 
cordial  approval  of  the  match.  He  is  so  glad  to  think 
that  Mr.  D.  is  a  business  man.  His  cable  from  Seattle 
was  most  enthusiastic.  M.  D." 

Westover  did  not  know  whether  to  laugh  or  cry 
when  he  read  this  letter,  which  covered  several  sheets 
of  paper  in  lines  that  traversed  each  other  in  different 
Directions.  His  old,  youthful  ideal  of  Mrs.  Vostrand 
finally  perished  in  its  presence,  though  still  he  could 
not  blame  her  for  wishing  to  see  her  daughter  well 
married  after  having  seen  her  married  so  ill.  He  asked 
himself,  without  getting  any  very  definite  response, 
whether  Mrs.  Vostrand  had  always  been  this  kind  of 
a  woman,  or  had  grown  into  it  by  the  use  of  arts 
which  her  peculiar  plan  of  life  had  rendered  necessary 
to  her.  He  remembered  the  intelligent  toleration  of 
Cynthia  in  speaking  of  her,  and  his  indignation  in  be 
half  of  the  girl  was  also  a  thrill  of  joy  for  her  escape 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  431 

from  the  fate  which  Mrs.  Vostrand  was  so  eagerly  in 
voking  for  her  daughter.  But  he  thought  of  Gene- 
vie  ve  with  something  of  the  same  tenderness,  and  with 
a  compassion  that  was  for  her  alone.  She  seemed  to 
him  a  victim  who  was  to  be  sacrificed  a  second  time, 
and  he  had  clearly  a  duty  to  her  which  he  must  not 
evade.  The  only  question  could  be  how  best  to  dis 
charge  it,  and  Westover  took  some  hours  from  his 
work  to  turn  the  question  over  in  his  mind.  In  the 
end,  when  he  was  about  to  give  the  whole  affair  up 
for  the  present,  and  lose  a  night's  sleep  over  it  later, 
he  had  an  inspiration,  and  he  acted  upon  it  at  once. 
He  perceived  that  he  owed  no  formal  response  to  the 
sentimental  insincerities  of  Mrs.  Vostrand's  letter,  and 
he  decided  to  write  to  Durgin  himself,  and  to  put  the 
case  altogether  in  his  hands.  If  Durgin  chose  to  show 
the  Vostrands  what  he  should  write,  very  well ;  if  he 
chose  not  to  show  it,  then  Westover's  apparent  silence 
would  be  a  sufficient  reply  to  Mrs.  Vostrand's  appeal. 

"  I  prefer  to  address  you,"  he  began,  "  because  I  do 
not  choose  to  let  you  think  that  I  have  any  feeling  to 
indulge  against  you,  and  because  I  do  not  think  I  have 
the  right  to  take  you  out  of  your  own  keeping  in  any 
way.  You  would  be  in  my  keeping  if  I  did,  and  I  do 
not  wish  that,  not  only  because  it  would  be  a  bother 
to  me,  but  because  it  would  be  a  wrong  to  you. 

"  Mrs.  Vostrand,  whose  letter  to  me  I  will  leave  you 
to  answer  by  showing  her  this,  or  in  any  other  man 
ner  you  choose,  tells  me  you  do  not  want  me  to  spare 
the  truth  concerning  you.  I  have  never  been  quite 
certain  what  the  truth  was  concerning  you ;  you  know 


432  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

that  better  than  I  do ;  and  I  do  not  propose  to  write 
your  biography  here.  But  I  will  remind  you  of  a  few 
things. 

"  The  first  day  I  saw  you,  I  caught  you  amusing 
yourself  with  the  terror  of  two  little  children,  and  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  cuffing  you  for  it.  But  you  were 
only  a  boy  then,  and  afterwards  you  behaved  so  well 
that  I  decided  you  were  not  so  much  cruel  as  thought 
lessly  mischievous.  When  you  had  done  all  you  could 
to  lead  me  to  this  favorable  conclusion,  you  suddenly 
turned  and  avenged  yourself  on  me,  so  far  as  you 
could,  for  the  help  I  had  given  the  little  ones  against 
you.  I  never  greatly  blamed  you  for  that,  for  I  de 
cided  that  you  had  a  vindictive  temperament,  and  that 
you  were  not  responsible  for  your  temperament,  but 
only  for  your  character. 

"  In  your  first  year  at  Harvard  your  associations 
were  bad,  and  your  conduct  generally  was  so  bad  that 
you  were  suspended.  You  were  arrested  with  other 
rowdy  students,  and  passed  the  night  in  a  police  sta 
tion.  I  believe  you  were  justly  acquitted  of  any  spe 
cific  offence,  and  I  always  believed  that  if  you  had 
experienced  greater  kindness  socially  during  your  first 
year  in  college  you  would  have  been  a  better  man. 

"  You  seem  to  have  told  Mrs.  Vostrand  of  your  en 
gagement,  and  I  will  not  speak  of  that.  It  was  cred 
itable  to  you  that  so  wise  and  good  a  girl  as  your 
betrothed  should  have  trusted  you,  and  I  do  not  know 
that  it  was  against  you  that  another  girl  who  was 
neither  wise  nor  good  should  have  trusted  you  at  the 
same  time.  You  broke  with  the  last,  because  you  had 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  433 

to  choose  between  the  two ;  and,  so  far  as  I  know,  you 
accepted  with  a  due  sense  of  your  faithlessness  your 
dismissal  by  the  first.  In  this  connection  I  must  re 
mind  you  that  while  you  were  doing  your  best  to  make 
the  party  to  your  second  engagement  believe  that  you 
were  in  love  with  her,  you  got  her  brother,  an  habitual 
inebriate,  drunk,  and  were,  so  far,  instrumental  in 
breaking  down  the  weak  will  with  which  he  was  strug 
gling  against  his  propensity.  It  is  only  fair  to  you 
that  I  should  add  that  you  persuaded  me  you  got  him 
only  a  little  drunker  than  he  had  already  got  himself, 
and  that  you  meant  to  have  looked  after  him,  but  for 
got  him  in  your  preoccupation  with  his  sister. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  took  place  between  you  and 
these  people  after  you  broke  your  engagement  with 
the  sister,  until  your  encounter  with  the  brother  in 
WhitwelFs  Clearing,  and  I  know  of  this  only  at  sec 
ond  hand.  I  can  well  believe  that  you  had  some  real 
or  fancied  injury  to  pay  off;  and  I  give  you  all  the 
credit  you  may  wish  to  claim  for  sparing  him  at  last. 
For  one  of  your  vindictive  temperament  it  must  have 
been  difficult. 

"  I  have  told  you  the  worst  things  I  know  of  you, 
and  I  do  not  pretend  to  know  them  more  than  super 
ficially.  I  am  not  asked  to  judge  you,  and  I  will  not. 
You  must  be  your  own  judge.  You  are  to  decide 
whether  these  and  other  acts  of  yours  are  the  acts  of 
a  man  good  enough  to  be  intrusted  with  the  happiness 
of  a  woman  who  has  already  been  very  unhappy. 

"  You  have  sometimes,  however — oftener  than  I 
wished — come  to  me  for  advice,  and  I  now  offer  you 
BB 


434  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

some  advice  voluntarily.  Do  not  suppose  that  because 
you  love  this  woman,  as  you  believe,  you  are  fit  to  be 
the  keeper  of  her  future.  Ask  yourself  how  you  have 
dealt  hitherto  with  those  who  have  loved  you,  and 
whom  in  a  sort  you  loved,  and  do  not  go  further  un 
less  the  answer  is  such  as  you  can  fully  and  faithfully 
report  to  the  woman  you  wish  to  marry.  What  you 
have  made  yourself  you  will  be  to  the  end.  You  once 
called  me  an  idealist,  and  perhaps  you  will  call  this 
idealism.  I  will  only  add,  and  I  will  give  the  last 
word  in  your  defence,  you  alone  know  what  you  are." 


LIII. 

As  soon  as  Westover  had  posted  his  letter  he  be 
gan  to  blame  himself  for  it.  He  saw  that  the  right 
and  manly  thing  would  have  been  to  write  to  Mrs. 
Vostrand,  and  tell  her  frankly  what  he  thought  of 
Durgin.  Her  folly,  her  insincerity,  her  vulgarity,  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  affair,  so  far  as  he  was  conT 
cerned.  If  she  had  once  been  so  kind  to  him  as  to 
bind  him  to  her  in  grateful  friendship,  she  certainly 
had  a  claim  upon  his  best  offices.  His  duty  was  to 
her,  and  not  at  all  to  Durgin.  He  need  not  have  said 
anything  against  him  because  it  was  against  him,  but 
because  it  was  true ;  and  if  he  had  written  he  must 
not  have  said  anything  less  than  the  truth. 

He  could  have  chosen  not  to  write  at  all.  He  could 
have  said  that  her  mawkish  hypocrisy  was  a  little  too 
much ;  that  she  was  really  wanting  him  to  whitewash 
Durgin  for  her,  and  she  had  no  right  to  put  upon  him 
the  responsibility  for  the  step  she  clearly  wished  to 
take.  He  could  have  made  either  of  these  decisions, 
and  defended  them  to  himself ;  but  in  what  he  had 
done  he  had  altogether  shirked.  While  he  was  writ 
ing  to  Durgin,  and  pretending  that  he  could  justly 


436  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

leave  this  affair  to  him,  he  was  simply  indulging  a  bit 
of  sentimental  pose,  far  worse  than  anything  in  Mrs. 
Vostrand's  sham  appeal  for  his  help. 

He  felt,  as  the  time  went  by,  that  she  had  not  writ 
ten  of  her  own  impulse,  but  at  her  daughter's  urgence, 
and  that  it  was  this  poor  creature  whose  trust  he  had 
paltered  with.  He  believed  that  Durgin  would  not 
fail  to  make  her  unhappy,  yet  he  had  not  done  what 
he  might  to  deliver  her  out  of  his  hand.  He  had 
satisfied  a  wretched  pseudo-magnanimity  towards  a 
faithless  scoundrel,  as  he  thought  Durgin,  at  the  cost 
of  a  woman  whose  anxious  hope  of  his  aid  had  proba 
bly  forced  her  mother's  hand. 

At  first  he  thought  his  action  irrevocable,  and  he 
bitterly  upbraided  himself  for  not  taking  council  with 
Cynthia  upon  Mrs.  Vostrand's  letter.  He  had  thought 
of  doing  that,  and  then  he  had  dismissed  the  thought 
as  involving  pain  that  he  had  no  right  to  inflict ;  but 
now  he  perceived  that  the  pain  was  such  as  she  must 
suffer  in  the  event,  and  that  he  had  stupidly  refused 
himself  the  only  means  of  finding  out  the  right  thing 
to  do.  Her  true  heart  and  her  clear  mind  would  have 
been  infallible  in  the  affair,  and  he  had  trusted  to  his 
own  muddled  impulse. 

He  began  to  write  other  letters  :  to  Durgin,  to  Mrs. 
Vostrand,  to  Genevieve;  but  none  of  them  satisfied 
him,  and  he  let  the  days  go  by  without  doing  anything 
to  retrieve  his  error  or  fulfil  his  duty.  At  last  he  did 
what  he  ought  to  have  done  at  first :  he  enclosed  Mrs. 
Vostrand's  letter  to  Cynthia,  and  asked  her  what  she 
thought  he  ought  to  have  done.  While  he  was  wait- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  437 

ing  Cynthia's  answer  to  his   letter,  a  cable  message 
reached  him  from  Florence  : 

"Kind  letter  received.     Married  to-day.      Written. 

"  VOSTRAND." 

The  next  mail  brought  Cynthia's  reply,  which  was 
very  brief : 

"  I  am  sorry  you  had  to  write  at  all ;  nothing  could 
have  prevented  it.  Perhaps  if  he  cares  for  her  he 
will  be  good  to  her." 

Since  the  matter  was  now  irremediable,  Westover 
crept  less  miserably  through  the  days  than  he  could 
have  believed  he  should,  until  the  letter  which  Mrs. 
Vostrand's  cable  promised  came  to  hand. 

"  Dear  friend,"  she  wrote,  "  your  generous  and  sat 
isfactory  answer  came  yesterday.  It  was  so  delicate 
and  high-minded,  and  so  like  you,  to  write  to  Mr. 
Durgin,  and  leave  the  whole  affair  to  him  ;  and  he  did 
not  lose  a  moment  in  showing  us  your  beautiful  letter. 
He  said  you  were  a  man  after  his  own  heart,  and  I 
wish  you  could  have  heard  how  he  praised  you.  It 
made  Genevieve  quite  jealous,  or  would  have,  if  it  had 
been  any  one  else.  But  she  is  so  happy  in  your  ap 
proval  of  her  marriage,  which  is  to  take  place  before 
the  sindaco  to-morrow.  We  shall  only  have  the  civil 
rite  ;  she  feels  that  it  is  more  American,  and  we  are 
all  coming  home  to  Lion's  Head  in  the  spring  to  live 
and  die  true  Americans.  I  wish  you  could  spend  the 


438  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

summer  with  us  there,  but  until  Lion's  Head  is  re 
built,  we  can't  ask  you.  I  don't  know  exactly  how 
we  shall  do  ourselves,  but  Mr.  Durgin  is  full  of  plans, 
and  we  leave  everything  to  him.  He  is  here,  making 
Genevieve  laugh  so  that  I  can  hardly  write.  He  joins 
us  in  love  and  thanks,  and  our  darling  Bice  sends  you 
a  little  kiss.  MEDORA  VOSTRAND. 

"  P.  S. — Mr.  D.  has  told  us  all  about  the  affairs  you 
alluded  to.  With  Miss  L.  we  cannot  feel  that  he  was 
to  blame  ;  but  he  blames  himself  in  regard  to  Miss  W. 
He  says  his  only  excuse  is  that  he  was  always  in  love 
with  Genevieve;  and  I  think  that  is  quite  excuse 
enough.  M.  V." 

From  time  to  time  during  the  winter  Westover 
wrote  to  Cynthia,  and  had  letters  from  her  in  which 
he  pleased  himself  fancying  almost  a  personal  effect 
of  that  shyness  which  he  thought  a  charming  thing  in 
her.  But  no  doubt  this  was  something  he  read  into 
them ;  on  their  face  they  were  plain,  straightforward 
accounts  of  the  life  she  led  in  the  little  old  house  at 
Lion's  Head,  under  the  shadow  of  the  black  ruin  on 
the  hill.  Westover  had  taken  to  sending  her  books 
and  magazines,  and  in  thanking  him  for  these  she 
would  sometimes  speak  of  things  she  had  read  in  them. 
Her  criticism  related  to  the  spirit  rather  than  the 
manner  of  the  things  she  spoke  of,  and  it  pleased  him 
that  she  seemed,  with  all  her  insight,  to  have  very 
little  artistic  sense  of  any  kind;  in  the  world  where 
he  lived  there  were  so  many  women  with  an  artistic 
sense  in  every  kind  that  he  was  rather  weary  of  it. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  439 

There  never  was  anything  about  Durgin  in  the  let 
ters,  and  Westover  was  both  troubled  and  consoled  by 
this  silence.  It  might  be  from  consciousness,  and  it 
probably  was ;  it  might  be  from  indifference.  In  the 
worst  event,  it  hid  any  pain  she  might  have  felt  with 
a  dignity  from  which  no  intimation  of  his  moved  her. 
The  nearest  she  came  to  speaking  of  Jeff  was  when 
she  said  that  Jombateeste  was  going  to  work  at  the 
Brick-yards  in  Cambridge  as  soon  as  the  spring 
opened,  and  was  not  going  to  stay  any  longer  at  Lion's 
Head.  Her  brother  Frank,  she  reported,  had  got  a 
place  with  part  work  in  the  drug-and-book  store  at 
Lovewell,  where  he  could  keep  on  more  easily  with  his 
studies ;  he  had  now  fully  decided  to  study  for  the 
ministry  ;  he  had  always  wanted  to  be  an  Episcopalian. 

One  day  towards  the  end  of  April,  when  several 
weeks  had  passed  without  bringing  Westover  any  word 
from  Cynthia,  her  father  presented  himself,  and  en 
joyed  in  the  painter's  surprise  the  sensation  of  having 
dropped  upon  him  from  the  clouds.  He  gave  due 
accounts  of  the  health  of  each  of  his  household,  end 
ing  with  Jombateeste.  "  You  know  he's  out  at  the 
Brick,  as  he  calls  it,  in  Cambridge." 

"  Cynthia  said  he  was  coming.  I  didn't  know  he 
had  come  yet,"  said  Westover.  "  I  must  go  out  and 
look  him  up,  if  you  think  I  could  find  him  among  all 
those  Canucks." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  but  you'd  better  look  us  up  at 
the  same  time,"  said  Whitwell,  with  additional  pleas 
ure  in  the  painter's  additional  surprise.  "I  guess 
we're  out  in  Cambridge,  too,"  he  added,  at  Westover's 


440  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

start  of  question.  "  We're  out  there,  visitin'  one  of 
our  summer  folks,  as  you  might  say.  Remember  Mis' 
Fredericks  ? " 

"  Why,  what  the  deuce  kept  you  from  telling  me  so 
at  once  ?  "  Westover  demanded,  indignantly. 

"  Guess  I  hadn't  got  round  to  it,"  said  Whitwell, 
with  dry  relish. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  Cynthia's  there  ? " 

"  Well,  I  guess  they  wouldn't  cared  much  for  a  visit 
from  me" 

Whitwell  took  advantage  of  Westover's  moment  of 
mystification  to  explain  that  Jeff  had  written  over  to 
him  from  Italy,  offering  him  a  pretty  good  rent  for 
his  house,  which  he  wanted  to  occupy  while  he  was 
rebuilding  Lion's  Head.  He  was  going  to  push  the 
work  right  through  in  the  summer,  and  be  ready  for 
the  season  the  year  after.  That  was  what  Whitwell 
understood,  and  he  understood  that  Jeff's  family  was 
going  to  stay  in  Lovewell,  but  Jeff  himself  wanted  to 
be  on  the  ground  day  and  night. 

"  So  that's  kind  of  turned  us  out  of  doors,  as  you 
may  say,  and  Cynthia's  always  had  this  idee  of  comin' 
down  Boston  way ;  and  she  didn't  know  anybody  that 
could  advise  with  her  as  well  as  Mis'  Fredericks,  and 
she  wrote  to  her,  and  Mis'  Fredericks  answered  her  to 
come  right  down  and  talk  it  over."  Westover  felt  a 
pang  of  resentment  that  Cynthia  had  not  turned  to 
him  for  counsel,  but  he  said  nothing,  and  Whitwell 
went  on :  "  She  said  she  was  ashamed  to  bother  you, 
you'd  had  the  whole  neighborhood  on  your  hands  so 
much,  and  so  she  wrote  to  Mis'  Fredericks." 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  441 

Westover  had  a  vague  discomfort  in  it  all,  which 
ultimately  defined  itself  as  a  discontent  with  the  will 
ingness  of  the  Whitwells  to  let  Durgin  occupy  their 
house  upon  any  terms,  for  any  purpose,  and  a  linger 
ing  grudge  that  Cynthia  should  have  asked  help  of 
any  one  but  himself,  even  from  a  motive  of  delicacy. 

In  the  evening  he  went  out  to  see  the  girl  at  the 
house  of  Mrs.  Fredericks,  whom  he  found  living  in  the 
Port.  They  had  a  first  moment  of  intolerable  shyness 
on  her  part.  He  had  been  afraid  to  see  her,  with  the 
jealousy  for  her  dignity  he  always  felt,  lest  she  should 
look  as  if  she  had  been  unhappy  about  Durgin.  But 
he  found  her  looking,  not  only  very  well,  but  very 
happy  and  full  of  peace,  as  soon  as  that  moment  of 
shyness  passed.  It  seemed  to  Westover  as  if  she  had 
begun  to  live  on  new  terms,  and  that  a  harassing  ele 
ment,  which  had  always  been  in  it,  had  gone  out  of 
her  life,  and  in  its  absence  she  was  beginning  to  re 
joice  in  a  lasting  repose.  He  found  himself  rejoicing 
with  her,  and  he  found  himself  on  simpler  and  franker 
terms  with  her  than  ever  before.  Neither  of  them 
spoke  of  Jeff,  or  made  any  approach  to  mention  him, 
and  Westover  believed  that  this  was  not  from  a  mor 
bid  feeling  in  her,  but  from  a  final  and  enduring 
indifference. 

He  saw  her  alone,  for  Mrs.  Fredericks  and  her 
daughter  had  gone  into  town  to  a  concert,  which  he 
made  her  confess  she  would  have  gone  to  herself  if  it 
had  not  been  that  her  father  said  he  was  coming  out 
to  see  her.  She  would  not  let  him  joke  about  the 
sacrifice  he  pretended  she  had  made ;  he  had  a  certain 


442  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

pain  in  fancying  that  his  visit  was  the  highest  and 
finest  favor  that  life  could  do  her.  She  told  him  of 
the  ambition  she  had  that  she  might  get  a  school 
somewhere  in  the  neighborhood  of  Boston,  and  then 
find  something  for  her  brother  to  do,  while  he  began 
his  studies  in  the  Theological  school  at  Harvard. 
Frank  was  still  at  Lovewell,  it  seemed. 

At  the  end  of  the  long  call  he  made,  he  said, 
abruptly,  when  he  had  risen  to  go,  "  I  should  like  to 
paint  you." 

"  Who  ?  Me  ?  "  she  cried,  as  if  it  were  the  most  in 
credible  thing,  while  a  glad  color  rushed  over  her  face. 

"  Yes.  While  you're  waiting  to  get  your  school, 
couldn't  you  come  in  with  your  father,  now  and  then, 
and  sit  for  me  ? " 

"  What's  he  want  me  to  come  fer  ?  "  Whitwell  de 
manded,  when  the  plan  was  laid  before  him.  He  was 
giving  his  unlimited  leisure  to  the  exploration  of  Bos 
ton,  and  his  tone  expressed  something  of  the  injury 
which  he  also  put  into  words,  as  a  sole  objection  to  the 
proposed  interruption.  "  Can't  you  go  alone,  Cynthy  ? " 

Cynthia  said  she  did  not  know,  but  when  the  point 
was  referred  to  Mrs.  Fredericks,  she  was  sure  Cynthia 
could  not  go  alone,  and  she  acquainted  them  both,  as 
far  as  she  could,  with  that  mystery  of  chaperonage 
which  had  never  touched  their  lives  before.  Whitwell 
seemed  to  think  that  his  daughter  would  give  the  mat 
ter  up ;  and  perhaps  she  might  have  done  so,  though 
she  seemed  reluctant,  if  Mrs.  Fredericks  had  not  far 
ther  instructed  them  that  it  was  the  highest  possible 
honor  Mr.  Westover  was  offering  them,  and  that  if  he 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  443 

had  proposed  to  paint  her  daughter,  she  would  simply 
have  gone  and  lived  with  him  while  he  was  doing  it. 

Whitwell  found  some  compensation  for  the  time 
lost  to  his  study  of  Boston  in  the  conversation  of  the 
painter,  which  he  said  was  worth  a  hundred  cents  on 
the  dollar  every  time,  though  it  dealt  less  with  the 
metaphysical  aspect  of  the  latest  facts  of  science  than 
the  philosopher  could  have  wished.  He  did  not,  to 
be  sure,  take  very  much  stock  in  the  picture  as  it  ad 
vanced,  somewhat  fitfully,  with  a  good  many  reversions 
to  its  original  state  of  sketch.  It  appeared  to  him 
always  a  slight  and  feeble  representation  of  Cynthia, 
though,  of  course,  a  native  politeness  forbade  him  to 
express  his  disappointment.  He  avowed  a  faith  in 
Westover's  ability  to  get  it  right  in  the  end,  and  al 
ways  bade  him  go  on,  and  take  as  much  time  to  it  as 
he  wanted. 

He  felt  less  uneasy  than  at  first,  because  he  had  now 
found  a  little  furnished  house  in  the  woodenest  out 
skirts  of  North  Cambridge,  which  he  hired  cheap  from 
the  recently  widowed  owner,  and  they  were  keeping 
house  there.  Jombateeste  lived  with  them,  and 
worked  in  the  Brick-yards.  Out  of  hours  he  helped 
Cynthia,  and  kept  the  ugly  little  place  looking  trim 
and  neat,  and  left  Whitwell  free  for  the  tramps  home 
to  nature,  which  he  began  to  take  over  the  Belmont 
uplands  as  soon  as  the  spring  opened.  He  was  not 
homesick,  as  Cynthia  was  afraid  he  might  be ;  his  mind 
was  fully  occupied  by  the  vast  and  varied  interests 
opened  to  it  by  the  intellectual  and  material  activities 
of  the  neighboring  city ;  and  he  found  ample  scope 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

for  his  physical  energies  in  doing  Cynthia's  errands, 
as  well  as  studying  the  strange  flora  of  the  region. 
He  apparently  thought  that  he  had  made  a  distinct 
rise  and  advance  in  the  world.  Sometimes,  in  the 
first  days  of  his  satisfaction  with  his  establishment,  he 
expressed  the  wish  that  Jackson  could  only  have  seen 
how  he  was  fixed,  once.  In  his  preoccupation  with 
other  things,  he  no  longer  attempted  to  explore  the 
eternal  mysteries  with  the  help  of  planchette ;  the  un 
grateful  instrument  gathered  as  much  dust  as  Cynthia 
would  suffer  on  the  what-not  in  the  corner  of  the  sol 
emn  parlor ;  and  after  two  or  three  visits  to  the  First 
Spiritual  Temple  in  Boston,  he  lapsed  altogether  from 
an  interest  in  the  other  world,  which  had,  perhaps, 
mainly  flourished  in  the  absence  of  pressing  subjects 
of  inquiry  in  this. 

When  at  last  Westover  confessed  that  he  had  car 
ried  his  picture  of  Cynthia  as  far  as  he  could,  Whit- 
well  did  his  best  to  hide  his  disappointment.  "  Well, 
sir,"  he  said,  tolerantly  and  even  cheeringly,  "  I  pre 
sume  we're  every  one  of  us  a  different  person  to 
whoever  looks  at  us.  They  say  that  no  two  men  see 
the  same  star." 

"  You  mean  that  she  doesn't  look  so  to  you,"  sug 
gested  the  painter,  who  seemed  not  at  all  abashed. 

"  Well,  you  might  say —  Why  here  !  It's  like  her ; 
photograph  couldn't  get  it  any  better ;  but  it  makes 
me  think,  well,  of  a  bird  that  you've  come  on  sudden, 
and  it  stoops  as  if  it  was  goin'  to  fly — " 

"  Ah,"  said  Westover,  "  does  it  make  you  think  of 
that?" 


LIV. 

THE  painter  could  not  make  out  at  first«  whether 
the  girl  herself  was  pleased  with  the  picture  or  not, 
and  in  his  uncertainty  he  could  not  give  it  her  at  once, 
as  he  had  hoped  and  meant  to  do.  It  was  by  a  kind  of 
accident  he  found  afterwards  that  she  had  always  been 
passionately  proud  of  his  having  painted  her.  This 
was  when  he  returned  from  the  last  sojourn  he  had 
made  in  Paris,  whither  he  went  soon  after  the  Whit- 
wells  settled  in  North  Cambridge.  He  left  the  pict 
ure  behind  him  to  be  framed  and  then  sent  to  her 
with  a  letter  he  had  written,  begging  her  to  give  it 
house-room  while  he  was  gone.  He  got  a  short,  stiff 
note  in  reply  after  he  reached  Paris,  and  he  had  not 
tried  to  continue  the  correspondence.  But  as  soon  as 
he  returned  he  went  out  to  see  the  Whitwells  in 
North  Cambridge.  They  were  still  in  their  little 
house  there ;  the  young  widower  had  married  again ; 
but  neither  he  nor  his  new  wife  had  cared  to  take  up 
their  joint  life  in  his  first  home,  and  he  had  found 
Whitwell  such  a  good  tenant  that  he  had  not  tried  to 
put  up  the  rent  on  him.  Frank  was  at  home,  now, 
with  an  employment  that  gave  him  part  of  his  time 


446  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

for  his  theological  studies ;  Cynthia  had  been  teach 
ing  school  ever  since  the  fall  after  Westover  went 
away,  and  they  were  all,  as  Whitwell  said,  in  clover. 
He  was  the  only  member  of  the  family  at  home  when 
Westover  called  on  the  afternoon  of  a  warm  summer 
day,  and  he  entertained  him  with  a  full  account  of  a 
visit  he  had  paid  Lion's  Head  earlier  in  the  season. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  said,  as  if  he  had  already  stated  the 
fact,  "  I've  sold  my  old  place  there  to  that  devil." 
He  said 'devil  without  the  least  rancor;  with  even  a 
smile  of  goodwill,  and  he  enjoyed  the  astonishment 
Westover  expressed  in  his  demand  : 

"  Sold  Durgin  your  house  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  see  we  never  wanted  to  go  back  there  to 
live,  any  of  us,  and  I  went  up  to  pass  the  papers  and 
close  the  thing  out.  Well  I  did  have  an  offer  for  it 
from  a  feller  that  wanted  to  open  a  boa'din'-house 
there,  and  get  the  advantage  of  Jeff's  improvements, 
and  I  couldn't  seem  to  make  up  my  mind  till  I'd 
looked  the  ground  over.  Fr.st  off,  you  know,  I 
thought  I'd  sell  to  the  other  feller,  because  I  could 
see  in  a  minute  what  a  thorn  it'd  be  in  Jeff's  flesh. 
But  duran  it  all !  When  I  met  the  comical  devil  I 
couldn't  seem  to  want  to  pester  him.  Why,  here, 
thinks  I,  if  we've  made  an  escape  from  him — and  I 
guess  we  have,  about  the  biggest  escape — what  have  I 
got  agin  him,  anyway  ?  I'd  ought  to  feel  good  to  him  ; 
and  I  guess  that's  the  way  I  did  feel,  come  to  boil  it 
down.  He's  got  a  way  with  him,  you  know,  when 
you're  with  him,  that  makes  you  lik^  him.  He  may 
have  a  knife  in  your  ribs  the  whole  while,  but  so  long's 


THE    LANDLORD    AT   LION'S    HEAD.  447 

he  don't  turn  it,  you  don't  seem  to  know  it,  and  you 
can't  help  likin'  him.  Why,  1  hadn't  been  with  Jeff  five 
minutes  before  I  made  up  my  mind  to  sell  to  him.  I 
told  him  about  the  other  offer — felt  bound  to  do  it — 
and  he  was  all  on  fire.  '  I  want  that  place,  Mr.  Whit- 
well,'  s'd  he.  *  Name  your  price.'  Well,  I  wa'n't 
goin'  to  take  an  advantage  of  the  feller,  and  I  guess 
he  see  it.  'You've  offered  me  three  thousand,'  s'd  I, 
*  V  I  don't  want  to  be  no  ways  mean  about  it.  Five 
thousand  buys  the  place.'  i It's  mine,'  s'd  he;  just 
like  that.  I  guess  he  see  he  had  a  gentleman  to  deal 
with,  and  we  didn't  say  a  word  more.  Don't  you 
think  I  done  right  to  sell  to  him  ?  I  couldn't  'a'  got 
more'n  thirty-five  hundred  out  the  other  feller,  to 
save  me,  and  before  Jeff  begun  his  improvements  I 
couldn't  'a  realized  a  thousand  dollars  on  the  prop'ty." 

"  I  think  you  did  right  to  sell  to  him,"  said  West- 
over,  saddened  somewhat  by  the  proof  Whitwell  al 
leged  of  his  magnanimity. 

"  Well,  sir,  I'm  glad  you  do.  I  don't  believe  in 
crowdin'  a  man  because  you  got  him  in  a  corner,  an'  I 
don't  believe  in  bearin'  malice.  Never  did.  All  I  want 
ed  was  what  the  place  was  wo'th — to  him.  'Twa'n't 
wo'th  nothin'  to  me  !  He's  got  the  house  and  the 
ten  acres  around  it,  and  he's  got  the  house  on  Lion's 
Head,  includin'  the  Clearin',  that  makes  the  poottiest 
picnic-ground  in  the  mountains.  Think  of  goin'  up 
there  this  summer  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Westover,  briefly. 

"  Well,  I  some  wish  you  did.  I  sh'd  like  to  know 
how  Jeff's  improvements  struck  you.  Of  course,  I 


44:8  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

can't  judge  of  'em  so  well,  but  I  guess  lie's  made  a 
pootty  sightly  tiling  of  it.  He  told  me  he'd  had  one 
of  the  leadin'  Boston  architects  to  plan  the  thing  out 
for  him,  and  I  tell  you  he's  got  something  nice. 
'Tain't  so  big  as  old  Lion's  Head,  and  Jeff  wants  to 
cater  to  a  different  style  of  custom,  anyway.  The 
buildin's  longer'n  what  she  is  deep,  and  she  spreads 
in  front  so's  to  give  as  many  rooms  a  view  of  the 
mountain  as  she  can.  Know  what  '  runnaysonce  '  is  ? 
Well,  that's  the  style  Jeff  said  it  was ;  it's  all  pillars 
and  pilasters;  and  you  ride  up  to  the  office  through 
a  double  row  of  colyums,  under  a  kind  of  a  portico. 
It's  all  painted  like  them  old  Colonial  houses  down  on 
Brattle  Street,  buff  and  white.  Well,  it  made  me 
think  of  one  of  them  old  pagan  temples.  He's  got 
her  shoved  along  to  the  southward,  and  he's  widened 
out  a  piece  of  level  for  her  to  stand  on,  so  't  that  piece 
o'  wood  up  the  hill  there  is  just  behind  her,  and  I  tell 
you  she  looks  nice,  backin'  up  ag'inst  the  trees.  I 
tell  you,  Jeff's  got  a  head  on  him !  I  wish  you  could 
see  that  dinin'-room  o1  his:  all  white  colyums,  and 
frontin'  on  the  view.  Why,  that  devil's  got  a  regular 
little  theaytre  back  o'  the  dinin'-room  for  the  young 
folks  to  act  ammyture  plays  in,  and  the  shows  that 
come  along,  and  he's  got  a  dance-hall  besides;  the 
parlors  ain't  much — folks  like  to  set  in  the  office  ;  and 
a  good  many  of  the  rooms  are  done  off  into  soots, 
and  got  their  own  parlors.  I  tell  you,  it's  swell,  as 
they  say.  You  can  order  what  you  please  for  break 
fast,  but  for  lunch  and  dinner  you  got  to  take  what 
Jeff  gives  you  ;  but  he  treats  you  well.  He's  a  Dur- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  449 

gin,  when  it  comes  to  that.  Served  in  cou'ses,  and 
dinner  at  seven  o'clock.  I  don't  know  where  he  got 
his  money  for  't  all,  but  I  guess  he  put  in  his  insur 
ance  first,  and  then  he  put  a  mortgage  on  the  build- 
in'  ;  he  as  much  as  owned  it ;  said  he'd  had  a  splen 
did  season  last  year,  and  if  he  done  as  well  for  a  cou 
ple  of  seasons  more  he'd  have  the  whole  prop'ty  free 
o'  debt." 

Westover  could  see  that  the  prosperity  of  the  un 
just  man  had  corrupted  the  imagination  and  con 
founded  the  conscience  of  this  simple  witness,  and  he 
asked,  in  the  hope  of  giving  his  praises  pause,  "  What 
has  he  done  about  the  old  family  burying-ground  in 
the  orchard  ?" 

"  Well,  there  !  "  said  Whitwell.  "  That  got  me  more 
than  any  other  one  thing.  I  naturally  expected  that 
Jeff  'd  had  'em  moved,  for  you  know  and  /  know,  Mr. 
Westover,  that  a  place  like  that  couldn't  be  very  pop'- 
la'  with  summer  folks ;  they  don't  want  to  have  any 
thing  to  kind  of  make  'em  serious,  as  you  may  say. 
But  that  devil  got  his  architect  to  treat  the  place,  as 
he  calls  it,  and  he  put  a  high  stone  wall  around  it,  and 
planted  it  to  bushes  and  evergreens  so  't  looks  like  a 
piece  of  old  garden,  down  there  in  the  corner  of  the 
orchard,  and  if  you  didn't  hunt  for  it  you  wouldn't 
know  it  was  there.  Jeff  said  't  when  folks  did  happen 
to  find  it  out,  he  believed  they  liked  it ;  they  think 
it's  picturesque  and  ancient.  Why,  some  on  'em 
wanted  him  to  put  up  a  little  chapel  alongside  and 
have  services  there ;  and  Jeff  said  he  didn't  know  but 
he'd  do  it  yet.  He's  got  dark-colored  stones  up  for 
Cc 


450  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

Mis'  Durgin  and  Jackson,  so  't  they  look  as  old  as  any 
of  'em.  I  tell  you,  lie  knows  how  to  do  things." 

"It  seems  so,"  said  Westover,  with  a  bitterness 
apparently  lost  upon  the  optimistic  philosopher. 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  guess  it's  all  worked  out  for  the  best. 
So  long's  he  didn't  marry  Cynthy,  I  don't  care  who 
he  married,  and  I  guess  he's  made  out  first-rate,  and 
he  treats  his  wife  well,  and  his  mother-in-law  too. 
You  wouldn't  hardly  know  they  was  in  the  house, 
they're  so  kind  of  quiet ;  and  if  a  guest  wants  to  see 
Jeff,  he's  got  to  send  and  ask  for  him;  clerk  does 
everything,  but  I  guess  Jeff  keeps  an  eye  out,  and 
knows  what's  goin'  on.  He's  got  an  elegant  soot  of 
appartments,  and  he  lives  as  private  as  if  he  was  in 
his  own  house,  him  and  his  wife.  But  when  there's 
anything  goin'  on  that  needs  a  head,  they're  both 
right  on  deck. 

"  He  don't  let  his  wife  worry  about  things  a  great 
deal ;  he's  got  a  first-rate  of  a  housekeeper,  but  I 
guess  old  Mis'  Vostrand  keeps  the  housekeeper,  as 
you  may  say.  I  hear  some  of  the  boa'ders  talkin'  up 
there,  and  one  of  'em  said  't  the  great  thing  about 
Lion's  Head  was  't  you  could  feel  everywheres  in  it 
that  it  was  a  lady's  house.  I  guess  Jeff  has  a  pootty 
good  time,  and  a  time  't  suits  him.  He  shows  up  on 
the  coachin'  parties,  and  he's  got  himself  a  reg'lar 
English  coachman's  rig,  with  boots  outside  his  trou- 
se's,  and  a  long  coat,  and  a  fuzzy  plug-hat :  I  tell  you 
he  looks  gay  !  He  don't  spend  his  winters  at  Lion's 
Head :  he  is  off  to  Europe  about  as  soon  as  the  house 
closes  in  the  fall,  and  he  keeps  bringin'  home  new 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  451 

dodges.  Guess  you  couldn't  get  no  boa'd  there  for 
no  $7  a  week  now!  I  tell  you,  Jeff's  the  gentleman 
now,  and  his  wife's  about  the  nicest  lady  /  ever  saw. 
Do'  know  as  I  care  so  much  about  her  mother ;  do' 
know  as  I  got  anything  ag'inst  her  either,  very  much. 
But  that  little  girl,  Beechy,  as  they  call  her,  she's  a 
beauty  !  And  round  with  Jeff  all  the  while !  He  seems 
full  as  fond  of  her  as  her  own  mother  does,  and  that 
devil,  that  couldn't  seem  to  get  enough  of  torrnentin' 
little  children  when  he  was  a  boy,  is  as  good  and  gen 
tle  with  that  little  thing  as — pie  ! " 

Whitwell  seemed  to  have  come  to  an  end  of  his 
celebration  of  Jeff's  success,  and  Westover  asked: 
"  And  what  do  you  make  now,  of  planchette's  broken- 
shaft  business  ?  Or  don't  you  believe  in  planchette 
any  more  ? " 

WhitwelPs  beaming  face  clouded.  "Well,  sir, 
that's  a  thing  that's  always  puzzled  me.  If  it  wa'n't 
that  it  was  Jackson  workin'  plantchette  that  night,  I 
shouldn't  placed  much  dependence  on  what  she  said  ; 
but  Jackson  could  get  the  truth  out  of  her,  if  any 
body  could.  Sence  I  b'en  up  there  I  b'en  figurin'  it 
out  like  this :  the  broken  shaft  is  the  old  Jeff  that 
he's  left  off  bein'— " 

Whitwell  stopped  midway  in  his  suggestion,  with 
an  inquiring  eye  on  the  painter,  who  asked,  "  You 
think  he's  left  off  being  the  old  Jeff  ? " 

"  Well,  sir,  you  got  me  there,"  the  philosopher  con 
fessed.  "  I  didn't  see  anything  to  the  contrary,  but 
come  to  think  of  it — " 

"  Why  couldn't  the  broken  shaft  be  his  unfulfilled 


452  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

destiny  on  the  old  lines  ?     What  reason  is  there  to 
believe  he  isn't  what  he's  always  been  ? " 

"  Well,  come  to  think  of  it — " 

"  People  don't  change  in  a  day,  or  a  year,"  West- 
over  went  on,  "  or  two  or  three  years,  even.  Some 
times  I  doubt  if  they  ever  change." 

"Well,  all  that  I  thought,"  Whitwell  urged  faintly 
against  the  hard  scepticism  of  a  man  ordinarily  so 
yielding,  "  is  't  there  must  be  a  moral  government  of 
the  universe  somewkeres,  and  if  a  bad  feller  is  to  get 
along  and  prosper  hand  over  hand,  that  way,  don't  it 
look  kind  of  as  if — " 

"There  wasn't  any  moral  government  of  the  uni 
verse  ?  Not  the  way  I  see  it,"  said  Westover.  "  A 
tree  brings  forth  of  its  kind.  As  a  man  sows  he 
reaps.  It's  dead  sure,  pitilessly  sure.  Jeff  Durgin 
sowed  success,  in  a  certain  way,  and  he's  reaping  it. 
He  once  said  to  me,  when  I  tried  to  waken  his  con 
science,  that  he  should  get  where  he  was  trying  to  go 
if  he  was  strong  enough,  and  being  good  had  nothing 
to  do  with  it.  I  believe  now  he  was  right.  But  he 
was  wrong  too,  as  such  a  man  always  is.  That  kind 
of  tree  bears  Dead  Sea  apples,  after  all.  He  sowed 
evil  and  he  must  reap  evil.  He  may  never  know  it, 
but  be  will  reap  what  he  has  sown.  The  dreadful 
thing  is  that  others  must  share  in  his  harvest.  What 
do  you  think  ?  " 

Whitwell  scratched  his  head.  "  Well,  sir,  there's 
something  in  what  you  say,  I  guess.  But  here! 
What's  the  use  of  thinkin'  a  man  can't  change? 
Wa'n't  there  ever  anything  in  that  old  idee  of  a 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  453 

change  of  heart  ?  What  do  you  s'pose  made  Jeff  let  up 
on  that  feller  that  Jombateeste  see  him  have  down,  that 
day,  in  my  Clearin'  ?  What  Jeff  would  natch'ly  done 
would  b'en  to  shake  the  life  out  of  him  ;  but  he  didn't ; 
he  let'  him  up,  and  he  let  him  go.  What's  the  reason 
that  wa'n't  the  beginnin'  of  a  new  life  for  him  ? " 

"  We  don't  know  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  that  busi 
ness,"  said  Westover  after  a  moment.  "  I've  puzzled 
over  it  a  good  deal.  The  man  was  the  brother  of  that 
girl  that  Jeff  had  jilted  in  Boston.  I've  found  out 
that  much.  I  don't  know  just  the  size  and  shape  of 
the  trouble  between  them,  but  Jeff  may  have  felt  that 
he  had  got  even  with  his  enemy  before  that  day.  Or 
he  may  have  felt  that  if  he  was  going  in  tor  full  sat 
isfaction,  there  was  Jombateeste  looking  on — 

"  That's  true,"  said  Whitwell,  greatly  daunted. 
After  a  while  he  took  refuge  in  the  reflection,  "  Well, 
he's  a  comical  devil." 

Westover  said,  in  a  sort  of  absence :  "  Perhaps  we're 
all  broken  shafts,  here.  Perhaps  that  old  hypothesis 
of  another  life,  a  world  where  there  is  room  enough 
and  time  enough  for  all  the  beginnings  of  this  to  com 
plete  themselves — " 

"  Well,  now  you're  shoutin',"  said  Whitwell.  "  And 
if  plantchette — "  Westover  rose.  "  Why,  a'n't  you 
goin'  to  wait  and  see  Cynthy  ?  I'm  expectin'  her  along 
every  minute  now ;  she's  just  gone  down  to  Harvard 
Square.  She'll  be  awfully  put  out  when  she  knows 
you've  be'n  here." 

"  I'll  come  out  again  soon,"  said  Westover.  "  Tell 
her—" 


454  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

"  Well,  you  must  see  your  picture,  anyway.  We've 
got  it  in  the  parlor.  I  don't  know  what  she'll  say  to 
me,  keepin'  you  here  in  the  settin'-room  all  the  time." 

Whitwell  led  him  into  the  little  dark  front  hall,  and 
into  the  parlor,  less  dim  than  it  should  have  been  be 
cause  the  afternoon  sun  was  burning  full  upon  its 
shutters.  The  portrait  hung  over  the  mantel,  in  a 
bad  light,  but  the  painter  could  feel  everything  in  it 
that  he  could  not  see. 

"Yes,  it  has  that  look  in  it." 

"  Well,  she  ha'n't  took  wing  yet,  I'm  thankful  to 
think,"  said  Whitwell,  and  he  spoke  from  his  own 
large  mind  to  the  sympathy  of  an  old  friend  who  he 
felt  could  almost  share  his  feelings  as  a  father. 


LV. 

WHEN  Westover  turned  out  of  the  baking  little 
street  where  the  Whitwells  lived  into  an  elm-shaded 
stretch  of  North  Avenue,  he  took  off  his  hat  and 
strolled  bareheaded  along  in  the  cooler  air.  He  was 
disappointed  not  to  have  seen  Cynthia,  and  yet  he 
found  himself  hurrying  away  after  his  failure,  with  a 
sense  of  escape,  or  at  least  of  respite. 

What  he  had  come  to  say,  to  do,  was  the  effect  of 
long  experience  and  much  meditation.  The  time  had 
arrived  when  he  could  no  longer  feign  to  himself  that 
his  feelings  towards  the  girl  were  not  those  of  a  lov 
er,  but  he  had  his  modest  fears  that  she  could  never 
imagine  him  in  that  character,  and  that  if  he  should 
ask  her  to  do  so  he  should  shock  and  grieve  her,  and 
inflict  upon  himself  an  incurable  wound. 

During  this  last  absence  of  his  he  had  let  his  fancy 
dwell  constantly  upon  her,  until  life  seemed  worth 
having  only  if  she  would  share  it  with  him.  He  was 
an  artist,  and  he  had  always  been  a  boheniian,  but  at 
heart  he  was  philistine  and  bourgeois.  His  ideal  was 
a  settlement,  a  fixed  habitation,  a  stated  existence,  a 
home  where  he  could  work  constantly  in  an  air  of  af- 


4:56  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

fection,  and  unselfishly  do  his  part  to  make  his  home 
happy.  It  was  a  very  simple-hearted  ambition,  and 
I  do  not  quite  know  how  to  keep  it  from  appearing 
commonplace  and  almost  sordid ;  but  such  as  it  was 
I  must  confess  that  it  was  his.  He  had  not  married 
his  model,  because  he  was  mainly  a  landscapist,  per 
haps;  and  he  had  not  married  any  of  his  pupils,  be 
cause  he  had  not  been  in  love  with  them,  charming' 
and  good  and  lovely  as  he  had  thought  some  of  them  ; 
and  of  late  he  had  realized  more  and  more  why  his 
fancy  had  not  turned  in  their  direction.  He  perceived 
that  it  was  already  fixed,  and  possibly  had  long  been 
fixed. 

He  did  not  blink  the  fact  that  there  were  many  dis 
parities,  and  that  there  would  be  certain  disadvantages 
which  could  never  be  quite  overcome.  The  fact  had 
been  brought  rather  strenuously  home  to  him  by  his 
interview  with  Cynthia's  father.  He  perceived,  as  in 
deed  he  had  always  known,  that  with  a  certain  im 
aginative  lift  in  his  thinking  and  feeling,  Whitwell 
was  irreparably  rustic,  that  he  was  and  always  must 
be  practically  Yankee.  Westover  was  not  a  Yankee, 
and  he  did  not  love  or  honor  the  type,  though  its 
struggles  against  itself  touched  and  amused  him.  It 
made  him  a  little  sick  to  hear  how  Whitwell  had  prof 
ited  by  Durgin's  necessity,  and  had  taken  advantage 
of  him  with  conscientious  and  self-applausive  rapacity, 
while  he  admired  his  prosperity,  and  tried  to  account 
for  it  by  doubt  of  its  injustice.  For  a  moment  this 
seemed  to  him  worse  than  Durgin's  conscientious 
toughness,  which  was  the  antithesis  of  Whitwell's  re- 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  457 

morseless  self-interest.  For  the  moment  this  claimed 
Cynthia  of  its  kind,  and  Wcstovcr  beheld  her  rustic 
and  Yankee  of  her  father's  type.  If  she  was  not  that 
now,  she  would  grow  into  that  through  the  lapse  from 
the  personal  to  the  ancestral  which  we  all  undergo  in 
the  process  of  the  years. 

The  sight  of  her  face  as  he  had  pictured  it,  and  of 
the  soul  which  he  had  imagined  for  it,  restored  him  to 
a  better  sense  of  her,  but  he  felt  the  need  of  escaping 
from  the  suggestion  of  her  father's  presence,  and  tak 
ing  further  thought.  Perhaps  he  should  never  again 
reach  the  point  that  he  was  aware  of  deflecting  from 
now ;  he  filled  his  lungs  with  long  breaths,  which  he 
exhaled  in  sighs  of  relief.  It  might  have  been  a  mis 
take  on  the  spiritual  as  well  as  the  worldly  side ;  it 
would  certainly  not  have  promoted  his  career ;  it  might 
have  impeded  it.  These  misgivings  flitted  over  the 
surface  of  thought  that  more  profoundly  was  occupied 
with  a  question  of  other  things.  In  the  time  since  he 
had  seen  her  last  it  might  very  *well  be  that  a  young 
and  pretty  girl  had  met  some  one  who  had  taken  her 
fancy ;  and  he  could  not  be  sure  that  her  fancy  had 
ever  been  his,  even  if  this  had  not  happened.  He  had 
no  proof  at  all  that  she  had  ever  cared  or  could  care 
for  him  except  gratefully,  respectfully,  almost  rever 
entially,  with  that  mingling  of  filial  and  maternal  anx 
iety  which  had  hitherto  been  the  warmest  expression 
of  her  regard.  He  tried  to  reason  it  out,  and  could 
not.  He  suddenly  found  himself  bitterly  disappointed 
that  he  had  missed  seeing  her,  for  if  they  had  met,  he 
would  have  known  by  this  time  what  to  think,  what  to 


458  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

hope.  He  felt  old — he  felt  fully  thirty-six  years  old — 
as  he  passed  his  hand  over  his  crown,  whose  gossamer 
growth  opposed  so  little  resistance  to  his  touch.  He 
had  begun  to  lose  his  hair  early,  but  till  then  he  had 
not  much  regretted  his  baldness.  He  entered  into  a 
little  question  of  their  comparative  ages,  which  led  him 
to  the  conclusion  that  Cynthia  must  now  be  about 
twenty-five. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  he  saw  her  coming  up 
the  walk  towards  him  from  far  down  the  avenue.  For 
a  reason,  or  rather  a  motive,  of  his  own  he  pretended 
to  himself  that  it  was  not  she,  but  he  knew  instantly 
that  it  was,  and  he  put  on  his  hat.  He  could  see  that 
she  did  not .  know  him,  and  it  was  a  pretty  thing  to 
witness  the  recognition  dawn  on  her.  When  it  had 
its  full  effect,  he  was  aware  of  a  flutter,  a  pause  in  her 
whole  figure  before  she  came  on  towards  him,  and  he 
hurried  his  steps  for  the  charm  of  her  blushing,  beau 
tiful  face. 

It  was  the  spiritu^  effect  of  figure  and  face  that  he 
had  carried  in  his  thought  ever  since  he  had  arrived  at 
that  one-sided  intimacy  through  his  study  of  her  for 
the  picture  he  had  just  seen.  He  had  often  had  to 
ask  himself  whether  he  had  really  perceived  or  only 
imagined  the  character  he  had  translated  into  it ;  but 
here,  for  the  moment  at  least,  was  what  he  had  seen. 
He  hurried  forward  and  joyfully  took  the  hand  she 
gave  him.  He  thought  he  should  speak  of  that  at 
once,  but  it  was  not  possible,  of  course.  There  had 
to  come  first  the  unheeded  questions  and  answers  about 
each  other's  health,  and  many  other  commonplaces. 


"  HE  HURRIED  FORWARD  AND  JOYFULLY  TOOK  THE  HAND  SHE 
GAVE  HIM  " 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  459 

He  turned  and  walked  home  with  her,  and  at  the  gate 
of  the  little  ugly  house  she  asked  him  if  he  would  not 
come  in  and  take  tea  with  them. 

Her  father  talked  with  him  while  she  got  the  tea, 
and  when  it  was  ready  her  brother  came  in  from  his 
walk  home  out  of  Old  Cambridge  and  helped  her  put 
it  on  the  table.  He  had  grown  much  taller  than  West- 
over,  and  he  was  very  ecclesiastical  in  his  manner; 
more  so  than  he  would  be,  probably,  if  he  ever  be 
came  a  bishop,  Westover  decided.  Jombateeste,  in 
an  interval  of  suspended  work  at  the  Brick-yard,  was 
paying  a  visit  to  his  people  in  Canada,  and  Westover 
did  not  see  him. 

All  the  time  while  they  sat  at  table  and  talked  to 
gether  Westover  realized  more  and  more  that  for  him, 
at  least,  the  separation  of  the  last  two  years  had  put 
that  space  between  them  which  alone  made  it  possible 
for  them  to  approach  each  other  on  new  ground.  A 
kind  of  horror,  of  repulsion,  for  her  engagement  to 
Jeff  Durgin  had  ceased  from  his  sense  of  her ;  it  was 
as  if  she  had  been  unhappily  married,  and  the  man, 
who  had  been  unworthy  and  unkind,  was  like  a  ghost 
who  could  never  come  to  trouble  his  joy.  He  was 
more  her  contemporary,  he  found,  than  formerly ;  she 
had  grown  a  great  deal  in  the  past  two  years,  and  a 
certain  affliction  which  her  father's  fixity  had  given 
him  concerning  her  passed  in  the  assurance  of  change 
which  she  herself  gave  him. 

She  had  changed  her  world,  and  grown  to  it,  but 
her  nature  had  not  changed.  Even  her  look  had  not 
changed,  and  he  told  her  how  he  had  seen  his  picture 


460  THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD. 

in  her  at  the  moment  of  their  meeting  in  the  street. 
They  all  went  in  to  verify  his  impression  from  the 
painting.  "Yes,  that  is  the  way  you  looked." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  is  the  way  I  felt,"  she  asserted. 

Frank  went  about  the  house-work,  and  left  her  to 
their  guest.  When  Whitwell  came  back  from  the 
post-office,  where  he  said  he  would  only  be  gone  a 
minute,  he  did  not  rejoin  Westover  and  Cynthia  in  the 
parlor. 

The  parlor  door  was  shut ;  he  had  risked  his  fate, 
and  they  were  talking  it  over.  Cynthia  was  not  sure ; 
she  was  sure  of  nothing  but  that  there  was  no  one  in 
the  world  she  cared  for  so  much ;  but  she  was  not  sure 
that  was  enough.  She  did  not  pretend  that  she  was 
surprised;  she  owned  that  she  had  sometimes  expected 
it;  she  blamed  herself  for  not  expecting  it  then. 

Westover  said  that  he  did  not  blame  her  for  not  know 
ing  her  mind ;  he  had  been  fifteen  years  learning  his 
own  fully.  He  asked  her  to  take  all  the  time  she 
wished.  If  she  could  not  make  sure  after  all,  he 
should  always  be  sure  that  she  was  wise  and  good. 
She  told  him  everything  there  was  to  tell  of  her  break 
ing  with  Jeff,  and  he  thought  the  last  episode  a  su 
preme  proof  of  her  wisdom  arid  goodness. 

After  a  certain  time  they  went  for  a  walk  in  the 
warm  summer  moonlight  under  the  elms,  where  they 
had  met  on  the  avenue. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said,  as  they  drew  near  her  door 
again,  "  that  people  don't  often  talk  it  over  as  we've 
done." 

"  We  only  know  from  the  novels,"  he  answered. 


THE    LANDLORD    AT    LION'S    HEAD.  46  L 

"  Perhaps  people  do,  oftener  than  is  ever  known.  I 
don't  see  why  they  shouldn't." 

"  No." 

"  I've  never  wished  to  be  sure  of  you  so  much  as 
since  you've  wished  to  be  sure  of  yourself." 

"And  I've  never  been  so  sure  as  since  you  were 
willing  to  let  me,"  said  Cynthia. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that.  Try  to  think  of  me,  if  that 
will  help  my  cause,  as  some  one  you  might  have  always 
known  in  this  way.  We  don't  really  know  each  oth 
er  yet.  I'm  a  great  deal  older  that  you,  but  still  I'm 
not  so  very  old." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  for  that.  All  I  want  to  be  cer 
tain  of  is  that  the  feeling  I  have  is  really — the  feel- 


ing." 


"  I  know,  dear,"  said  Wcstover,  and  his  heart 
surged  towards  her  in  his  tenderness  for  her  simple 
conscience,  her  wise  question.  "  Take  time.  Don't 
hurry.  Forget  what  I've  said — or  no ;  that's  absurd  ! 
Think  of  it ;  but  don't  let  anything  but  the  truth  per 
suade  you.  Now,  good-night,  Cynthia." 

"  Good-night — Mr.  Westover." 

"  Mr.  Westover  !"  he  reproached  her. 

She  stood  thinking,  as  if  the  question  were  crucial. 
Then  she  said,  firmly,  "  I  should  always  have  to  call 
you  Mr.  Westover." 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  returned,  "  if  that's  all ! " 

THE    END 


BY  GEOEGE  DU  MAURIER 


THE  MARTIAN.     A  Novel.    Illustrated  by  the  Author. 

Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1   75;    Three  -  quarter 

Calf,  $3  50  ;    Three  -  quarter  Crushed  Levant,  $4  50. 

(A  Glossary  of  the  French  and  Latin  expressions  in  the 

story  is  included.) 

He  has  an  irresistible  theme,  and  he  writes  irresistibly.  .  .  .  The  ro 
mance  has  the  ring  of  Mr.  Du  Maurier's  best  romancing;  the  simple,  almost 
naive,  admiration  of  the  boys  for  Barty  shows  the  author  as  wo  have 
known  him  in  his  highest  estate— true,  wise,  free  from  the  slightest 
suspicion  of  sentimentality  or  cant.  "The  Martian"  opens  again  the 
portals  of  his  delightful  world,  the  story  revives  the  tenderness,  the 
sweetness,  the  original  magic  which  many  readers  have  feared  could 
never  be  recaptured,  and  the  four  or  five  pictures  reveal  unmistakably  the 
same  hand  that  wrought  the  text.—  2V.  Y.  Tribune. 

TRILBY.  A  Novel.  Illustrated  by  the  Author.  Post 
8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  §1  75:  Three-quarter  Calf, 
$3  50  ;  Three-quarter  Crushed  Levant,  $4  50. 

Mr.  Du  Mauricr  has  written  his  tale  with  such  originality,  unconven 
tionality,  and  eloquence,  such  rollicking  humor  and  tender  pathos,  and 
delightful  play  of  every  lively  fancy,  all  running  so  briskly  in  exquisite 
English,  and  with  such  vivid  dramatic  picturing,  that  it  is  only  compara 
ble  ...  to  the  freshness  and  beauty  of  a  spring  morning  at  the  end  of  a 
dragging  winter.  ...  A  thoroughly  uniquo  story.— 2V.  Y.  Sun. 

PETER  IBBETSON.  With  an  Introduction  by  his 
Cousin,  Lady*  *  *  *  ("Madge  Plunket").  Edited 
and  Illustrated  by  GEORGE  DU  MAURIER.  Post  8vo, 
Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  50  ;  Three-quarter  Calf,  $3  25  ; 
Three-quarter  Crushed  Levant,  $4  25. 
The  pathos  is  true,  the  irony  delicate,  the  satire  severe  when  its 

subject  is  unworthy,  the  comedy  sparkling  and  the  tragedy   as  we  have 

said,  inevitable.—  N.  Y.  Evening  Post. 

ENGLISH  SOCIETY.  Sketched  by  GEORGE  DU  MAU- 
IITEU.  About  100  illustrations.  With  an  Introduction 
by  W.  D.  HOWELLS.  Oblong  4to,  Cloth,  Ornamental, 

$2  50. 


NEW  YORK   AND   LONDON  : 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS 

Tfie  above  works  are  for  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  will  be  sent  ly 
the  publishers,  postage  prepaid,  on  receipt  of  the  price, 


BY  MARY   E.  WILKINS 


JEROME,  A  POOR  MAN.  A  Novel.  16mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental. 
$1  50. 

MADKLON.     A  Novel.     16mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1   25. 

PEMBROKE.  A  Novel.  Illustrated.  16mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental, 
$1  50. 

JANE  FIELD.  A  Novel.  Illustrated.  IGmo,  Cloth,  Orna 
mental,  $1  25. 

A  NEW  ENGLAND  NUN,  and  Other  Stories.  16mo,  Cloth,  Or 
namental,  $1  25. 

A  HUMBLE  ROMANCE,  and  Other  Stories.  IGmo,  Cloth,  Orna 
mental,  $1  25. 

YOUNG  LUCRETIA,  and  Other  Stories.  Illustrated.  Post  8vo, 
Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  25. 

GILES  COREY,  YEOMAN.  A  Play,  Illustrated.  32mo,  Cloth, 
Ornamental,  50  cents. 

Mary  E.  Wilkins  writes  of  New  England  country  life,  analyzes  New 
England  country  character,  with  the  skill  and  deftness  of  one  who 
knows  it  through  and  through,  and  yet  never  forgets  that,  while  real 
istic,  she  is  tirst  and  last  an  artist. — Boston  Advertiser. 

Miss  Wilkins  has  attained  an  eminent  position  among  her  literary 
contemporaries  as  one  of  the  most  careful,  natural,  and  effective 
writers  of  hrief  dramatic  incident.  Few  surpass  her  in  expressing  the 
homely  pathos  of  the  poor  a.nd  ignorant,  while  the  humor  of  her  stories 
is  quiet,  pervasive,  and  suggestive. — Philadelphia  Press. 

It  takes  just  such  distinguished  literary  art  as  Mary  E.  Wilkins  pos 
sesses  to  give  an  episode  of  New  England  its  soul,  pathos,  and  poetry. 
— fr.  Y.  Times. 

The  pathos  of  New  England  life,  its  intensities  of  repressed  feeling, 
its  homely  tragedies,  and  its  tender  humor,  have  never  been  better 
told  than  by  Mary  E.  Wilkins. — Boston  Courier. 

The  simplicity,  purity,  and  quaintness  of  these  stories  set  them  apart 
in  a  niche  of  distinction  where  they  have  no  rivals.—  Literary  World, 
Boston. 

The  charm  of  Miss  Wilkins's  stories  is  in  her  intimate  acquaintance 
and  comprehension  of  humble  life,  and  the  sweet  human  interest  she 
feels  and  makes  her  readers  partake  of,  in  the  simple,  common,  homely 
people  she  draws.— Springfield  Republican. 

Studies  from  real  life  which  must  be  the  result  of  a  lifetime  of  pa- 
tiont,  sympathetic  observation.  ...  No  one  has  done  the  same  kind  of 
work  so  lovingly  and  so  well. — Christian  Register,  Boston. 


NEW  YORK   AND   LONDON  : 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS 

The  above  ivories  are  for  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  ivill  be  sent 
the  publishers,  postage  prepaid,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


RETURN  TO  the  circulation  desk  of  any 

University  of  California  Library 

or  to  the 

NORTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 
Bldg.  400,  Richmond  Field  Station 
University  of  California 
Richmond,  CA  94804-4698 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 
2-month  loans  may  be  renewed  by  calling 

(510)642-6753 
1-year  loans  may  be  recharged  by  bringing  books 

to  NRLF 
Renewals    and    recharges    may    be    made    4    days 

prior  to  due  date 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


1  7 


RECEIVED 


CIRC  -EPT 


DEC  26  1968 


BERKELEY 


CDD03737bft 


